“All right, all right! Point taken. Um, Emron, you could bend the bars, right?” Cassidy said.
Warren assumed that he’d given Cassidy a dirty look.
“Right, Warren?” Cassidy said hopefully.
“I don’t know,” Warren sighed.
Even if they escaped to the surface, they wouldn’t last long without their weapons and armor.
“For now, we should conserve our energy. We might have a chance to overwhelm the guards later.” Warren sat down on his bench.
Whatever happened, he would fight for his team. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing.
Warren awoke, barely aware that he’d fallen asleep. He stretched before remembering his wounds.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Cassidy said.
Cassidy lounged on the bench in his cell.
“How long was I out?”
“Hard to say down here. I’d guess four hours.” Warren nodded and wiped the sleep from his eyes.
The door to the prison opened, and a guard escorted a woman down the hall to Warren’s cell.
“Be quick.” The guard pushed the woman into the cell, then stormed away without another word.
Warren frowned and glanced at her. A brown dress hung from her narrow frame and wavy blond hair brushed her waist. Her bright blue gaze flicked up toward Warren before turning back to the ground. In the crook of her right arm, she held a small basket.
Warren tensed as he rose to his feet. Was she supposed to be their executioner? He doubted it, which made her presence that much more perplexing.
She pinned her gaze on Warren’s battered temple, then reached toward it.
What is she doing? Warren eyed her hand apprehensively, and she drew it away. She gestured for him to take a seat. Warren didn’t know why, but he did.
“Who are you?”
“Lillian,” she said delicately.
She studied his right hand. He’d forgotten he’d hurt it when he punched the guard.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was told a prisoner needed tending.”
She sat down next to him with the basket on her lap. Reaching inside the wicker pottle, she pulled out a bottle and rag. Her fingers trembled as she stretched toward him. Warren wasn’t necessarily ready to trust her, but he let her take his hand.
She set his hand on top of the basket, uncapped the jar, and poured a clear liquid onto the rag. She didn’t appear to be there to hurt him, but his left arm tensed. When the cloth touched his skin, he realized the liquid was only water. Lillian wiped the blood from his knuckles, the way a scared child would pet a strange animal.
“Why are you doing this?” Warren asked.
“I told you, I was told a prisoner needed tending.” She retrieved a small container of a blubbery paste from the wicker pottle and scooped a generous amount onto her fingers before rolling the substance onto his scraped knuckles.
“By who?” Warren asked, careful not to sound demanding.
“That guard,” Lillian said, wrapping a clean cloth around his hand.
Warren nodded. If she knew anything else about what was going on, she wouldn’t tell him.
Once she finished with his hand, she dampened her cleaning cloth again and worked to remove the blood from his head and neck. She wiped his skin until her rag grew dark with blood, at which point she pulled out a clean cloth and started again. Warren had never known anyone so gentle. Her methodical work soothed him.
As she got closer to the injury, Warren closed his eyes. Having someone tend to his wounds was rare. Back at Fortitude, if he became injured, he had to rely on his own knowledge. More often than not, that meant washing the wound with a rough rag and tying a bandage around it.
Lillian had barely finished cleaning the gash when the prison door opened again. Several seconds later, three guardsmen approached Warren’s cell. The tallest yanked open the door.
“On your feet, prisoner. The Dsyniict Council wishes to speak to you.”
“I haven’t finished yet.” Lillian looked at the man’s boots.
She seemed more scared of them than of Warren.
“You had your time, now move!”
“Please, just give me a few more minutes,” Lillian pleaded, as she cast a glance toward the guard.
“You have no right to make a request. Now move, second-rate healer.”
Warren stood up; his fists clenched. He didn’t know Lillian, but she deserved better than this, especially from her own people.
“Apologize, now,” Warren growled.
The man looked at the other two men. They appeared surprised, but not threatened.
“Am I supposed to be afraid?”
The other guards joined his laughter. Warren didn’t care that they mocked him, but he cared about that apology to Lillian.
He stepped within inches of the man’s face, his eyes level with the guard’s. “Apologize to the lady, now.”
“You touch me, and you’re dead,” the guard snarled.
“Please, I’m not worth it.” Lillian put a hand on Warren’s arm.
“I will take my leave.” She nodded stiffly to the guards before hurrying away.
Warren started to call after her, but she was gone. He looked back at the man, anger stirring within him. But he couldn’t afford another fight, and he stepped back.
“That’s what I thought.” The man smirked.
One of the men threw a large sack in front of Warren. Out spilled his helmet and a few other pieces of his armor.
“You have five minutes,” the man said, exiting the cell but leaving it unlocked.
Warren picked up his armor without looking away from the posted guards. At length, he studied it. The armor appeared fine, though the guards took no special effort to care for it.
“What about my gear, huh? Mind giving back what you stole from the rest of us too?” Cassidy called.
The lead guard turned. “Or what, you’ll talk me to death?”
“Don’t tempt him,” Emron huffed.
“I don’t recall asking you to speak, brute,” the guard said, now facing Emron.
“There you go with the name-calling. Tell me somethin’, does it make you feel better about your own insignificance to belittle others?” Cassidy mouthed off.
“What?” The man shouted, spinning around.
Warren resisted the smile tugging at his lips as he donned his armor. The guard had no idea with whom he was arguing.
“I didn’t realize you were deaf too. No wonder you’re insecure,” Cassidy said loudly.
The man reached through the bars and grabbed Cassidy by the shirt. “Listen here, whelp, the only reason I haven’t pummeled you yet is because of the Dsyniict Council, but one more wisecrack and I won’t hold back. Got it?”
Warren tightened his belt. The familiar weight of steel settled onto his shoulders.
“Yis, sir, I got it,” Cassidy said, though Warren guessed the it he referred to was the guard’s key ring that he’d stolen during the man’s rant.
“Well, if you two are finished with your chat, the council is waiting,” Warren said pushing his cell door open.
The guard scowled at Warren, but said nothing.
“We don’t need any more trouble, so hang tight for a while.” Warren nodded at Cassidy.
The phrase was a code they used back at Hilltop, meaning Warren would check something out. If he wasn’t back in half an hour, something had gone wrong and the others needed to get out.
“I’d rather not be hanged at all,” Cassidy said, starting Warren’s timer.
Warren carried his helmet between his arm and side. The guards walked on either side of him as they led him back to the Dsyniict Council. Again, Warren knelt on the seal.
“Know this, Warren,” an elderly councilman said, “the only thing keeping you alive is your intriguing skill as a warrior. I have long been a warrior myself and have never seen your equal.”
“What business has brought you here?” another co
uncil member asked.
“My team and I seek an ancient kingdom in the Black Mountains.”
The council mumbled to each other from their pedestal. Was the Dsyniict Council reconsidering their decision? If so, a prison break would hurt their chances of escape. Warren swallowed.
“In all my time, I have heard of no such thing,” the old man said skeptically. “What is your purpose in going to this kingdom?”
Twenty-three minutes.
What Ruben had found was beyond belief, but he had to at least try.
“A structure called the beacon. It can wipe the Darkness from the realm.”
Warren opened his mouth to explain, but they drowned his voice out in the commotion.
“Silence,” a man with a booming voice shouted.
The room fell into stillness.
“How do you know of this kingdom?” a youthful woman asked.
“An ally discovered a map showing its location.”
“This map, where is it?” a deep voice asked.
Eighteen minutes.
“At our camp, inside my rucksack.” Warren explained.
“You said an ally shared this information with you, who?” The elderly man asked.
“A skilled warrior and a mage.”
“You would trust his word so easily?” one asked.
“I trust him with my life.”
Again, silence fell over the court.
Warren was running out of time, and not just to stop his team.
The Darkness had to be stopped. He didn’t care if the guards pummeled him again, he couldn’t sit around waiting anymore.
Rising, Warren said. “People are dying out there. You know that much. Whether or not you believe me, my team may be their only hope. Punish me as you will, but you have to let my team go, or all hope will be lost.”
The figures sat motionless and unchanging. Warren’s palms were sweating, he felt as though he were teetering on the edge of a cliff.
Twelve minutes.
Finally, the council spoke.
“We will send a patrol to your camp. If the map is where you say it is, we will reconsider the fate of you and your team. Until we have proof that your word is truthful, you and your team will remain detained.”
“They’ll find the sack under a tree about ten feet to the right of a fire pit. It’s inside the smallest pocket on the right side.”
“For your sake, I hope you’re not lying to us,” one of the council members said.
Warren bowed curtly and turned to return to his cell when he remembered Zane.
“Permission to ask a question.”
“Speak,” a woman said.
“What happened to the man who brought us here?”
“Curious that you would ask about a stranger,” the deep-voiced man said.
“Please,” Warren said.
“Very well, we released him after your confession.”
Warren nodded, exhaling. He was safe.
“Is that all?” a man asked.
“Yes, thank you.” Warren bowed again. Only seven minutes left, barely enough time to return to the prison and stop his friends from escaping.
9
“Our patrol has returned,” the matter-of-fact woman said from her towering seat inside the court.
It had been two days since Warren last spoke with the council. The masked judges offered no hints of the search results. Just black robes and wooden faces. Warren swallowed. If something had happened to his pack...
“And what did they find?” Warren asked.
“A camp overrun with plagued wolves—some dead—others alive and feasting upon the flesh of their fallen kin,” the same woman said.
Warren’s throat tightened.
“But once our men cleared away the beasts, they found a torn knapsack.”
Warren looked up, eyes full of hope.
“You have proven truth to your word,” the deep-voiced man said.
A breath rushed across Warren’s lips as he dipped his head.
“But, there is still the matter of your crimes,” a council member said, a man who hadn’t spoken before, his voice rough like grinding stones.
Warren grew serious again.
“Because you have been true to your word, the council has pardoned you and your team. On one condition,” the figure paused.
“Our people are dying. We need your help to save them,” said the man. “Our soldiers are not strong enough, and we cannot afford to send a team on such a mission as the one we ask of you.”
“The magic supporting our kingdom is failing. Each year the Darkness gains a greater hold of the land, and each year our defenses grow weaker. We do not know how much longer the barrier will hold. The collapses have been growing more and more frequent. We believe we can stop the decay through the use of five magic tomes,” the youthful woman explained.
One of the figures held up a white leather book. Warren didn’t understand how, but he could sense something powerful coming from its pages.
“We of the Dsyniict Council hold one.” The nasally woman said. “Find the other four and you and your team will be free.”
“Where are they?”
“We do not know,” the youthful woman admitted.
Warren rubbed his face. “How long?”
“As long as it takes.”
“What about the beacon? Fortitude will be destroyed in a matter of months. I cannot abandon my people.”
“Our kingdom stands on the brink of extinction now,” the rough-voiced man said.
Warren stared at each figure. Their masks glared back. Isabel and everyone in Fortitude counted on him to reach the beacon.
“My team will get to the beacon in a couple months. You just admitted you don’t know how long this will take. Even if we locate the books, it could be much longer than that to find them and bring them here,” Warren reasoned.
“I am not convinced of this beacon’s authenticity. Accept our offer, or you will be executed,” the elderly man said.
Warren’s fists tightened. How were they so blind? The beacon was their best hope. And yet they were willing to send him into who-knows-what dark pit after some magic books? Warren blinked, realizing the similarity to the beacon. In their minds, the books were their only hope.
“I accept. However, I cannot do this alone. I need my team’s help,” Warren said.
“We expected as much.”
A guard on Warren’s left approached him. The man handed him a vial of clear liquid as the elderly councilman explained. “We will allow you to leave if you drink the contents of that vial.”
“What’s in it?” Warren raised an eyebrow.
“A slow acting poison, neither you nor your team will feel the effects for thirty days,” the elder said.
Warren’s blood ran cold. “My team?”
“They are being given the same vial. If they refuse, our guards have orders to kill them,” the youthful woman replied.
“No!” Warren shouted.
The guard leveled his spear at Warren.
“Return with the tomes in a month’s time, and we will give your team the antidote,” The nasally woman said.
Warren rubbed his face. He needed time to think. The guard inched the spear closer to his neck. No time.
“All right.”
The guard extended the vial to him again. Warren took it begrudgingly, then sniffed the bottle, trying to gauge what the ingredients might be, but smelled nothing. He emptied the vial into his mouth. The acidic liquid dried his tongue. A moment of panic raced through his veins.
Had they lied to him? Why would they? They had gone through the trouble to hear him out and returned his armor. Why kill him now? When no other symptoms presented themselves, Warren coughed, trying to clear the dryness to no avail.
“Search the library. Often there are rumors written in the pages of ancient history,” the mater-of-fact woman said.
Warren nodded. He turned to leave when one of the council members halted him.
Warren nodded solemnly and walked out. Just outside the door, Zane stood with his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the center table.
“Zane, what are you doing here?”
“The council ordered me to escort you and your team to your quarters.”
“Quarters?”
“This task, whatever it is, cannot be done in a matter of a few hours. You’ll need somewhere to stay for a few nights.” Zane pushed himself off the table and walked away.
Warren paused. He considered finding the books after they lit the beacon. The bitter taste in his mouth increased.
Zane led them to an abandoned house. A compact kitchen was on Warren’s left and a hallway was on his right. Dust gathered in corners of the main room and a musty scent permeated the air.
“This should do. There’s a bit of food in the pantry. Here’s a map, so try not to get lost. Places marked with a black X have collapsed and places with a red X are in danger of collapsing. Also, if you need to go into the city, I recommend you change into something less aggressive. There should be clothes in the rooms. You can see if anything fits.” Zane handed Warren a map and a house key before shutting the door behind him.
Warren took the key and map, then analyzed the parchment as he headed for the kitchen. Red and black X’s tangled throughout the city as if they were weeds in an unkempt garden. Sighing, he set the map down on the table.
“Anyone figure out how to get their spit back yet?” Cassidy asked as he reclined on the couch.
“Some food might help.” Vallerie moved into the kitchen.
She found some salted meat and tough bread in the pantry, as well as a handful of herbs and spices, which she used to prepare a quick meal.
“So, what’s the plan?” Emron grunted.
Warren slumped into a chair. “We won’t do much good in our current condition. We need to eat and rest. In the morning, we’ll go to the library and start searching for information about the tomes’ locations.”
“I still think this is a stupid idea,” Cassidy grumbled from the couch.
The Ajoiner Realm (Defenders of Radiance Book 1) Page 8
