by David Wells
“Be cautious leaving your body unattended like that,” Chloe said, shaking her tiny finger at him. “There are creatures in the aether that can take advantage of an uninhabited body.”
Alexander was surprised by the thought, then chided himself for not considering the possibility before. The shades were loose. It would probably be much easier for them to take possession of him if his consciousness was away. He sighed and shook his head.
“There’s just so much I don’t know about my magic. I wish I had an instruction manual.”
“Be patient, my boy,” Lucky said. “I suspect you’ll come to understand your abilities with time.”
“I just hope I have the time I need. Commander P’Tal’s force is marching through the forest by torchlight and a shade has taken up residence in one of his soldiers.” Everyone sat up straighter. “I don’t think P’Tal knows he has a demon for a traveling companion. I just wonder why the shade is with them.”
“The shades will seek out the Nether Gate,” Chloe said. “Perhaps they believe that you or your enemy may lead them to it.”
Alexander snorted. “If they’re looking for me to lead them there, they’ll never find it. I didn’t even know it existed until the other day.”
“It could be that the shade is just gathering information,” Jack suggested. “We don’t really know how much they know about our world. They may be totally lost and just trying to get their bearings.”
“That’s an encouraging thought,” Abigail said. “At least that way they’ll be a while looking for the Nether Gate.” She turned to Alexander and said, “Maybe we can beat them to it and you can cut the thing into tiny little pieces with that sword of yours.”
Alexander nodded. “Maybe we can learn something about it once we get to the Reishi Keep. For the time being, we have to stay focused on the Stone. At least the shades don’t seem interested in joining forces with Phane or they probably would have made their presence known to P’Tal.”
“That’s a fair assumption,” Lucky said, “but I would caution you not to ascribe human motives to the shades. They are not of this world. Their reasons may be beyond our understanding.”
“Lucky’s right, My Love,” Chloe said. “Creatures of the dark have twisted minds that do not make sense to those who love life.”
“At any rate, they’re a long way away from here,” Isabel said. “At least we have some distance on them.”
Alexander chuckled. “My father always said that range is the best armor; I guess I understand that particular truism better now.”
Anatoly smiled knowingly and nodded at the mention of his old friend’s admonition.
***
The next day brought a steel grey sky and light rain. By midafternoon they were all soaked through and cold. The rain was just a drizzle but it was unrelenting. They rowed doggedly through the gloom. Late in the day, Alexander realized he hadn’t seen the ravens. The low clouds probably interfered with their ability to track him.
Just before dusk, the rugged and rocky coastline gave way to sandy beaches and grassy dunes. Alexander was relieved to see the change in terrain. He was tired of rowing and he wasn’t altogether comfortable being on the water. He could swim but he didn’t want to have to. Worse, if they encountered a threat, he wouldn’t be able to engage with his sword very easily when his footing was unstable. He was anxious to get back on land. With any luck, they would be able to find a town that had some horses for sale.
They beached their canoes for the last time and made camp. The driftwood was too wet for a fire, so they ate a cold dinner, but nobody seemed to care. After the long day of rowing in the rain, everyone was tired and eager for the warmth of a bedroll.
For the next two days they hiked along the coastline. Alexander was torn between two possible routes. They could go through Kai’Gorn and risk being discovered by the enemy; the magistrate of Kai’Gorn had taken sides with Andalia and Phane. If they went that way, it would allow them to stick to the grasslands and travel much more quickly even though the distance was actually farther, but they might end up in a fight they couldn’t win.
The alternative was to set out north across the mountains and into Highlands Reach. The southern mountains weren’t nearly as tall as the Pinnacles, but they were still too rocky and treacherous for horses. That route had the added benefit of taking them right past Valentine Manor. Alexander had to admit that seeing his home was irrelevant but it would nice, especially after the way they’d left it.
He’d just made up his mind to turn northwest and avoid Kai’Gorn, when they crested a rise in the gently rolling grassland and saw the enemy. Alexander’s blood went cold at the sight of a hundred cavalry not half a mile away and headed toward them. Alexander looked around for a place to hide or to at least make a stand, but they were out in the open in virtually endless grassland bordered by the ocean. The ravens were circling high overhead. There was nowhere to run.
He looked over to Anatoly for suggestions. The big man-at-arms shook his head grimly as he calmly unslung his war axe.
“Alexander, this is a fight we can’t win,” Jack said.
“And yet, the fight comes,” Alexander said.
Chloe spun into a ball of light for a moment.
As the enemy approached, Alexander saw that they were not mounted on horses but instead on the fabled rhone steeds of Andalia. The rhone were similar to horses, only half again bigger with a bony knot on the forehead. The men mounted on the giant steeds were armored in scale mail with large shields. Each wore a long sword on his belt and carried a lance.
“Andalian Lancers,” Anatoly said. “I’ve faced them before. They’re well trained and well armed. They don’t carry ranged weapons except for their force lances which project a blast of magical energy for several dozen feet.”
The company of Lancers broke in two and moved to surround Alexander and his friends. Abigail sent an arrow at the lead soldier, but he angled his heavy shield and easily deflected it away.
“Chloe, Jack, disappear,” Alexander commanded. “If they wanted us dead, they would have charged. Don’t let them capture you.”
Jack tossed the hood of his cloak up and faded out of sight. Chloe vanished from view. Alexander heard her small voice in his mind. “I’m afraid, My Love.”
“I know,” he thought back to her, “but it’ll be all right. Just don’t let them see you.”
The company of Lancers surrounded them before a group of ten approached. Most were mounted on the giant rhone, but two were riding heavy war horses. They wore the uniforms of Kai’Gorn, while the Lancers all bore the crest of the House of Andalia on their shields.
“I’m Captain Tate of Kai’Gorn,” the higher-ranking officer said. He wore chain mail under a military tunic with the crest of Kai’Gorn emblazoned across it. He was armed with only a long sword and a large quiver filled with javelins. His pock-marked face was round and his teeth were crooked. He had dirty brown hair and plain brown eyes that nevertheless revealed a spark of intelligence. “You are Alexander Ruatha, I presume.”
Alexander didn’t respond with anything more than a glare. He appraised the situation with his all around sight and found it to be virtually hopeless. He could probably kill several of the soldiers before they ran him down, but it would cost him dearly. He scrutinized the colors of the men before him. The two from Kai’Gorn were not evil by nature but were soldiers who would follow their orders.
The Andalian Lancers were something else. They were disciplined and accustomed to violence. Andalia was clearly ruled by force and these men enforced that rule. And now they fought in service to Phane.
Captain Tate smiled grimly. “I have orders to take you into custody. If you surrender peacefully, you and your companions will be unharmed until Prince Phane decides your fate. If you resist, your friends will be killed and you will be subdued. Surely you can see you’re beaten.”
“What’s changed?” Alexander asked. “Phane’s been trying to murder me for months. Now, sudde
nly, he wants me alive?” Alexander watched Tate’s colors carefully even though he suspected he already knew the reason.
Captain Tate shrugged. “I don’t know, nor do I care. My orders are clear. You are to be taken alive. Your friends are to be taken alive as well, so long as it’s not too much of an inconvenience.” He leaned forward. “Surrender your weapons.”
Alexander looked at his friends. Everything inside him told him to fight. His rage was crying to be released but he knew with certainty that doing so would cost him the lives of those most dear to him. For a fleeting moment, he tried to touch his magic in the vain hope that it would save him, but there was nothing there except his magical sight.
He was powerless to win this battle. He only hoped that surrender would give him the chance to stand and fight another day. He heard his father’s voice in his mind, plain as day: “So long as you are alive, there’s still hope.”
After so long a struggle and so many encounters with death, he was faced with an impossible choice. It was Chloe who decided for him. “If you surrender, you will live and I can save you, My Love,” she said in his mind.
With a deep breath and anguish in his heart, he unbuckled the belt that held the Thinblade at his waist and tossed the ancient sword on the ground before him. Anatoly nodded grimly at the choice and tossed his war axe down as well.
The commander of the Andalian Lancers smiled with malice and lowered his lance at Alexander and unleashed its magic. It felt like being hit in the chest with a war hammer—he hit the ground hard and his consciousness faded away into darkness.
Chapter 33
When he woke, he hurt all over. He was chained in the back of a wagon, shackled at the wrists, around the ankles, and collared with a short chain leading from the back of his neck to a bolt set into the side railing. He looked around quickly to see that everyone except Jack was in similar restraints. Alexander wore only his undershirt and trousers. The Keep Master’s ring was no longer on his finger. His armor, knives, and pack were nowhere to be seen. Jack was huddled in the corner of the wagon, hiding beneath his cloak. Alexander gave him a wink and saw his colors flare slightly with hope. At least Jack was free. They might have a chance to escape.
Anatoly looked like he’d received similar treatment. He’d been stripped of his armor and weapons and was still unconscious. Isabel and Abigail were disarmed as well but they were both awake and looking miserable. Lucky was unharmed except for the abrasions caused by the shackles and the rough ride. Andalian Lancers rode all around the wagon.
“Is everyone all right?” Alexander asked.
Before anyone could answer, the nearest Lancer shouted, “No talking!”
Isabel, Abigail, and Lucky all nodded in answer to his question. It broke his heart to see his loved ones in such pain because of a birthright that he hadn’t asked for and didn’t want. He closed his eyes and forced his anger and pain away so he could focus his mind. He knew they would have precious few opportunities to escape and he was determined to be ready when they came.
He reached out for Chloe. She was there in his mind in an instant. “I am here, My Love.” She sounded worried and fearful but also angry.
“Stay hidden, Little One,” Alexander thought to her. “Did you see where they put our weapons?”
“They’re locked in the crate in the back of the wagon,” Chloe said in his mind. “Do you want me to push the lock into the aether and open the crate for you?”
Alexander thought about it for a moment but decided against it. They were surrounded by more than a hundred heavily armed soldiers. If he’d wanted to fight them, he would have had a better chance the moment they met. For now, they were alive, that was enough.
“No, not yet,” Alexander thought to her. “The time isn’t right.”
They rode in the back of the wagon for three grueling days before they reached the city of Kai’Gorn. They were given one meal a day and very little water. By the time they arrived, everyone was chafed by the shackles and collars to the point of bleeding. Alexander’s fury grew with each passing hour he was forced to watch his wife and sister, his protector and mentor suffer for the accident of his birth. He vowed he would not permit this to be the end of his struggle.
He caught glimpses of the people and buildings of Kai’Gorn as they entered the city. It was a rundown place filled with cowed people who scrambled to get out of the way of the soldiers as they clattered up the road.
The wagon came to a stop in the courtyard of the central keep of Kai’Gorn, a giant stone castle positioned on a bluff overlooking the broad river that flowed past it to the sea on the southern tip of Ruatha. A soldier unbolted the chains that held their collars to the sideboards, and Captain Tate ordered them from the wagon.
Alexander stumbled from the wagon and fell hard. One of the Andalian soldiers stepped up and kicked him in the ribs. He felt them crack. His next breath was a stab of pain.
Isabel shouted, “Leave him alone! You said Phane wants him unharmed!”
Alexander tried to make eye contact with her to silence her rage but couldn’t muster the strength past the stabbing pain in the side of his chest. Then he heard Isabel scream and he struggled to regain his feet. He glanced up to see another Lancer drag her from the wagon by her hair.
Rage flooded into him, filling every corner of his being with indignant fury. He surged toward the man, but before he could reach him, another mounted Lancer pointed his lance at him and a blast of magical force launched him from his feet and onto his back. He lay on the cold stone of the courtyard, listening to the derisive laughter of his enemy as his consciousness faded away in an ocean of pain.
He woke chained to a chair in a dimly lit room. For a moment he didn’t know where he was until he took a breath and the pain of his broken ribs racked through his body. He felt the terror of panic well up inside him before he gained control and withdrew to the place where his own personal witness lived. He took refuge in the calm stillness of that corner of his mind where nothing mattered, where he could simply observe events unfold with detachment.
The pain was still there but it was farther away. He looked around and saw Anatoly, Lucky, Abigail, and Isabel lined up along the wall, chained to chairs of their own. They wore a mixture of pain, anger, and fear on their faces. He tried to give them each a measure of his strength with a brief glance. Jack was nowhere to be seen.
A soldier dressed in the uniform of Kai’Gorn noticed that Alexander was awake and grabbed him roughly by the hair to tip his head back so he could look into his glittering eyes.
“You awake?” he asked, clearly not expecting an answer.
Once he was satisfied that Alexander was conscious, he left the room. It was only then that Alexander looked more closely at his surroundings. The stone-walled room was dirty and dark. The only light was the product of several old and poorly kept oil lamps. There were stains on the stone floor, and the one table in the room had tools of torture carefully laid out on its surface as if they were on display.
Alexander caught his breath. He could take what pain they might inflict on him—he’d endured the trial of pain during the mana fast. But the thought of Isabel or Abigail being tortured made his soul quail in fear.
When he heard the boot steps in the hall, he knew things were about to go from bad to worse. The door opened and four men entered. The first wore a gaudy, jewel-encrusted golden crown. He was an older man with graying hair and a drawn face. His skin looked like it was two sizes too big and hung on his large frame in drooping folds. He wore a heavy gold ring on each finger and had at least half a dozen jeweled chains around his neck. His heavy velvet red robes were decorated at the hem with gold filigree.
The next man through the door looked similar in facial features and frame except he was strong and fit. He wore a breastplate emblazoned with the crest of Kai’Gorn and carried a finely wrought short sword on his wide belt. Captain Tate filed in next, followed by the soldier who had been waiting for Alexander to wake up. When Alexander l
ooked closer at the man and saw that his smock had dried blood encrusted on it, he realized that he was a torturer.
Alexander scrutinized their colors and saw the vicious selfishness of evil burning brightly in each of them, with the sole exception of Captain Tate.
The man with the crown looked at Alexander for a moment as if considering his worth. “I am Magistrate Cain. This is my brother General Cain, and I believe you have already met Captain Tate.” He spoke with disdain and haughty arrogance. “It would seem that the reign of the pretender is at an end, wouldn’t you say?” He looked at his brother who chuckled as he nodded in agreement.
“Commander P’Tal will be along in a few days to collect you. Apparently, Prince Phane now believes you can help him retrieve an item of importance to him, with the proper persuasion, of course.” He smiled knowingly at Isabel and Abigail. Alexander felt a mixture of rage and despair well up within him. “Until then, you will be my guests.” The magistrate turned to the man with the smock and snapped his fingers. The man handed him the Thinblade, still in its scabbard.
With a greedy smile of triumph, Magistrate Cain took the Sword of Kings and held it up in front of Alexander almost reverently as if it were a talisman that conferred untold power upon its holder. “It is said that the one who wields this sword is the rightful King of Ruatha. That’s fitting because I expect Prince Phane to grant me command of Ruatha in exchange for delivering you into his care.”
Alexander snorted derisively and looked up at the magistrate with unconcealed contempt. “At best you’ll be his puppet, at worst you’ll be a meal for one of his pets. Either way, you’ll never taste freedom again.”
The magistrate laughed. “Who needs freedom when you have power?” he said as he drew the Thinblade with a flourish. The sword came free of the scabbard and promptly slipped out of his hand and flipped through the air. It caught General Cain by surprise and sliced him cleanly in half. His torso fell away from his legs, and his hands and forearms thudded to the ground, staining the floor with lurid red splatters.
