by David Wells
The Thinblade wound up stuck into the stone wall, blood dripping from its inky black blade. A crimson pool quickly spread across the dirty stone floor as General Cain’s lifeblood drained from his broken body. The magistrate stared at the mutilated corpse of his brother with shock. He tried to speak but nothing came out.
Alexander laughed.
Cain’s face turned scarlet. He backhanded Alexander across the face. “You did this!” he shouted with fury as he hit Alexander again.
Alexander smiled and spit blood at the magistrate’s boots. “It’s not your sword,” he said, working his jaw.
Magistrate Cain seized him by the collar and jerked him up straight so he could shout into his face. “You will pay for this! You will tell me how to command the sword or I will make you suffer until you do.”
Captain Tate cleared his throat. “Magistrate, I must remind you of Prince Phane’s orders. He is not to be harmed.”
The magistrate looked coldly at the captain and snorted. “I don’t have to hurt him to make him suffer.” Then he turned to the torturer. “Don’t cause him any permanent harm, but make him talk.”
The torturer brought a wide bucket of water and placed it in front of Alexander, then roughly tipped him over in his chair onto his knees with his chest resting against the edge of the bucket. The pressure on his ribs was agony. He could barely breathe.
Then the torturer pushed his head into the water. The suffocating feeling coupled with his injured ribs was beyond any pain he’d felt since the trials of the mana fast. He could hear Isabel and Abigail crying out on his behalf and knew that even this pain was nothing compared to the pain he would feel when the magistrate decided to use them against him. The torturer pulled his face up out of the frigid water and Alexander gasped for breath, sputtering.
“How does the Thinblade work?” asked the magistrate calmly, clearly enjoying Alexander’s suffering.
Alexander ignored him, struggling to breathe. The torturer shoved his head back into the water. The pain was almost unbearable, but Alexander knew where to take refuge against it. He withdrew once again into the place within his psyche that didn’t feel, that only observed. He saw the racking pain his body was enduring but it mattered less when he viewed it from the little corner of safety within his mind.
He could hear Chloe whimpering in the background of his consciousness, but he forbade her to reveal herself. Even through the distraction of torture, he knew that Phane was aware of her and intended to use her to obtain the Sovereign Stone. The last thing he wanted was to confirm her existence to the enemy.
“Find Jack and tell him where we are,” he thought to her.
“Hold on, My Love,” she said in his mind. “We will save you.”
The torture lasted for hours. Alexander used his all around sight to watch the scene from a different perspective. He found that looking at the situation from the viewpoint of an observer helped him remain within the safety of the detached corner of his consciousness. The hardest part was seeing the tears of anguish streaming down the faces of his wife and sister. Lucky had his eyes closed and was doing his best to shut out the horrible experience. Anatoly wore a grim expression of pure coiled rage; Alexander knew things would go badly for these men when Anatoly and his war axe were reunited. He took solace in that thought.
Eventually, Alexander became so exhausted that Captain Tate stepped forward. “Enough! You risk killing him.”
The magistrate turned and faced the captain with a look of cold fury. “He killed my brother!” he shouted, but Tate held his ground. “Who do you serve anyway?”
“You know very well that I am an agent of the Reishi Protectorate, Magistrate Cain,” Captain Tate said calmly. “I serve Prince Phane, as do you,” he added pointedly.
Magistrate Cain’s face turned a deeper shade of crimson and he wheeled on Alexander in fury. “You will tell me what I want to know by tomorrow morning or I will give your women to the Lancers for sport.” He kicked Alexander over onto his side and spit on him, then barked at the torturer as he walked out, “Bring me the Thinblade . . . in its scabbard.”
After they left, Alexander closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply enough to replenish his oxygen-starved body but shallowly enough to avoid the stabbing pain of his broken ribs. It was a delicate balancing act that he couldn’t quite get right.
“Are you all right, Alexander?” Isabel asked with a mixture of worry and fury in her voice.
He nodded with his eyes still closed tightly against the rhythmically stabbing pain in his chest that came and went with each breath. “Broken . . . ribs,” he managed through clenched teeth.
“Take shallow breaths,” Anatoly said.
“Alexander,” Lucky said in a tone that got his attention. “Is the blood in your mouth from being struck or did you cough it up?”
Alexander thought about it for a moment. “Hit,” he said quietly.
Lucky sighed in relief. “Good. Your lungs aren’t punctured. Try to rest.”
He heard his friends talking softly as he faded into unconsciousness. It was much later when he woke to urgent whispers. He held still for a moment, straining to hear what was happening around him. It was dark, but with his all around sight, he could make out the silhouettes of his friends still chained to their chairs. He pushed his magical vision through the door and saw Jack kneeling just outside holding perfectly still.
Another voice whispered something to Jack but it was muffled by the door. Alexander held his breath and waited.
He heard Chloe in his mind, “We’ve come to save you, My Love.”
Then the door slowly and carefully opened. Jack slipped inside and went to Alexander. Somehow he had the key to his shackles and collar. It was all Alexander could do to keep from crying out when the irons came off; the skin beneath had been rubbed raw. Jack carefully and gently unbound Alexander and helped him get free of his tipped-over chair.
He gratefully eased himself down onto the sticky blood coating the floor and focused on his breathing. A moment later, Isabel was at his side. He could feel the warmth of her tears as she silently cried for his pain. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Abigail came next. She put her hand on his head and whispered to him. “It’s almost over. You’ll be able to rest soon.”
The trip out of the dungeon was a blur. Anatoly and Lucky carried him through dark corridors, following behind a group of men that Alexander didn’t know. Chloe was there in his mind the whole way offering reassurances and the simple solace of her unconditional love.
Chapter 34
He woke the next morning on a cot. His ribs felt much better though they were still sore. Isabel was in a chair beside him with Chloe sitting cross-legged on one of her knees. He opened his eyes and looked up at them both with a smile that turned into a grimace.
“Where are we?”
Chloe flitted up to hover over his face and look intently into his eyes with worry and relief while Isabel sat forward and gently took his hand.
“We’re still in Kai’Gorn. It seems Jack is well connected even here. How are you feeling?”
He tested his ribs with a deep breath and winced at the tightness and pain. “I’ve been better, but I guess I shouldn’t complain, all things considered.”
“Lucky says you’ll be sore for a few days, but your ribs should be just about mended. Jack was able to get our stuff back, except for the Thinblade, so Lucky gave you a healing potion and put some salve on you before he left you to rest.”
He looked up at her and saw she was wearing her animal charm necklace. Before he could ask his next question, Abigail came into the room. She sat down next to Isabel and gently put her hand on his knee.
“Be more careful,” she said with a sad smile.
A moment later, Anatoly, Lucky, and Jack came in to see him.
Anatoly looked down at his charge and nodded his approval. “You handled that better than most.”
Lucky pulled up a chair on the other side o
f Isabel and sat down to examine Alexander’s wounds. When he probed his ribs, Alexander gasped slightly.
Lucky said, “After you have some food and water, I have some more healing draught for you and then you should sleep until tomorrow morning. I suspect you’ll be nearly mended by then.”
Alexander nodded, then looked up at Jack. “Well done, Master Colton.”
Jack bowed with a respectful flourish although his face was a mixture of sadness and smoldering anger.
“It would seem that there are those in Kai’Gorn who are unhappy with the magistrate and his, apparently late, brother. I must say, Alexander, you’ve given me quite a lot to work with. Even as we speak, the story of how you slew General Cain while chained to a chair is burning through the citizenry of Kai’Gorn like a plague.” The bard winked with a mischievous smile. “By tomorrow, every soul within a day’s ride will have heard it. In these parts, General Cain was feared and hated.”
“Who helped you get us out?” Alexander asked.
Jack shrugged. “My bards, of course, and a few of their acquaintances. We are everywhere, you know,” he said with mock arrogance.
Alexander started to chuckle but stopped abruptly with a wince. “Tell them I said thank you.”
Lucky chased everyone out so he could feed Alexander and give him another draught of healing potion. It wasn’t long before he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
He woke the next morning to find Isabel asleep at the little table. Chloe was pacing in front of her, looking worried. When she noticed Alexander open his eyes, she flew over to him and kissed him on the cheek.
“Are you better?”
He took a deep breath. His chest was still tight but he could breathe without the stabbing pain. He nodded, “I think so.”
“Good,” Chloe said, “we have more trouble.” She stopped and frowned at him. “I must say, My Love, danger seems to follow you.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Alexander said, sitting up. He was glad to see his dragon-steel shirt on the chair next to his bed along with his ring. He was just putting his tunic on over his armor when Isabel woke and looked up at him with bleary eyes. She smiled brightly.
He went to her and hugged her gently. “Are you all right?” he asked, looking closely at the fading wounds on her neck and wrists left by the collar and shackles.
She nodded. “Lucky took good care of me. Are you hungry?”
He nodded, suddenly feeling famished. They emerged from the room and everyone turned to look at them. His friends were in a long underground barracks that looked like the kind of place where low-ranking soldiers lived. There were no windows and only a single door that was barred twice with heavy oak planks. Lanterns hanging from stout ceiling beams cast shadows across the room.
Besides his friends, there were another ten men. According to Jack, they were men who made their living transporting goods in and out of Kai’Gorn under the cover of night to avoid the oppressive tariffs levied by the magistrate.
The largest of them stood and nodded deferentially to Alexander. “I’m Captain Finley Raisa, at your service.”
Alexander extended his hand and the big man took it firmly but with care. “Thank you for helping us. Master Colton has good friends.”
Captain Raisa shrugged. “Jack’s silver tongue has kept me out of trouble a time or two, but in truth, I would have helped you all on my own the moment I learned you killed General Cain. The man was a monster.”
Alexander didn’t bother to protest. He knew that people would believe what they wanted to believe and in this case it served his purpose.
Lucky motioned Alexander and Isabel over to a pair of open seats at the long table and served them breakfast. Alexander ate every bite of the well-seasoned mixture of potatoes and sausage without a word. When he finished, he took a deep breath and sat back in his chair, testing his ribs. They felt much better. Lucky’s magic always amazed him. He knew from past experience that broken ribs took a long, painful time to heal on their own.
“Chloe mentioned trouble. What’s our situation?”
Anatoly leaned forward. “The city’s locked down and soldiers are searching house to house. There’s nearly a legion of Andalian Lancers patrolling the area surrounding Kai’Gorn with more arriving by ship every day. Cain has your sword. And he’s planning to execute a handful of Captain Raisa’s men this afternoon in the city square. They were captured helping us escape.”
“How many men do you have that can fight, Captain?” Alexander asked the smuggler.
“I can round up thirty or so, but there are more who would be willing to fight if they believed it would end the suffering we’ve endured at the hand of Cain and his brother.”
“How many soldiers does Cain have and how many Lancers are inside the city?” Alexander asked.
“He has a couple thousand men in his royal guard within the city. The rest of the Kai’Gorn army is barracked outside the city walls. Cain has always been paranoid. As for the Lancers, I’d estimate three to four hundred within the city. They’re slow and clumsy on foot; they depend on those giant horse-like things for their real strength.”
“How fast is your ship?” Alexander asked.
Captain Raisa smiled proudly. “Faster than anything Kai’Gorn or Andalia has on the water.”
“Can you get us to it? And would you be willing to take us to Southport?”
Captain Raisa rubbed his chin in thought as if he was doing some calculations in his mind. Alexander smiled. The man’s colors were basically good, but he was clearly loyal to his ship and his crew.
“You will be well compensated for your efforts,” Alexander offered.
Captain Raisa smiled and nodded, then looked over at Jack. “You said he was a smart one.” He turned back to Alexander. “I can get you to Southport if you like, but I need to help my crewmen first.”
It was Alexander’s turn to smile. “Good man. Here’s the plan. We’ll assault the magistrate and his troops just before the planned execution. At the same time, some of your men will set the docks on fire along with an Andalian ship or two if they can. Lucky will tell you what he needs to make fire pots.”
He turned to Isabel, “Do you have a whistler arrow?”
She nodded, “Of course.”
“Good, that’ll be our signal. Is Slyder nearby?”
“He’s on the roof.”
“Take a good hard look at the town square. I want to put you and Abigail up on a high point so you can fire down into the crowd. We’ll also need to know our exits and where enemy reinforcements will come from.”
Alexander spent the next hour laying out his plan. It was more than a simple rescue. He wanted to take this opportunity to cause as much damage to the Kai’Gorn docks as possible to slow the influx of Andalian Lancers.
He also wanted to kill Cain.
Captain Raisa assured him that without the Cain brothers, Kai’Gorn would fall into disarray as factions whose animosity had long been held in check by their tyranny went to war with one another.
Alexander was relieved to hear that Commander P’Tal was still a few days away. He didn’t need the battle mage to contend with right now.
They made preparations all morning. Captain Raisa procured a sword for Alexander; it wasn’t fancy, but the blade was sturdy and sharp. It would do. Lucky used lamp oil to make fire pots and handed out three of his shatter vials. He warned the three men charged with delivering them about the power of the liquid fire they contained. Alexander gave them very specific instructions to target two of the Andalian troop-transport ships and then the center of the dock. Once the initial fires were set, the rest of the men would add fuel to the fire with jars of lamp oil.
As they made their way to the town square, Isabel reported that at least a hundred of the royal guard were present but none of the Lancers were there. Alexander told Captain Raisa to have twenty of his men mix in with the crowd and to send the rest to the docks, armed with fire.
Isabel, Abigail, and Lucky w
ent to a rooftop on the corner nearest their exit route, while Alexander and Anatoly, wearing long heavy cloaks to conceal their weapons, made their way into the crowd with Captain Raisa. Jack was already concealed at the edge of the square, waiting for his opportunity to free the prisoners.
A raised wooden platform stood along one wall of the square. On one end was a table covered by a white cloth that draped to the floor and was embroidered with the crest of Kai’Gorn. Behind the table was an ornately carved oak chair. On the other side of the platform was a round of wood a good three feet in diameter and nearly as tall.
A big man with a greasy black ponytail and a week’s worth of stubble sat on the round of wood, sharpening a broad-bladed axe. He wore a tunic with the crest of Kai’Gorn. Twenty soldiers armed with crossbows stood along the wall behind the platform and another dozen with short spears stood in front of it. All around the town square in clumps of five or six stood the rest of the royal guard assigned to provide security for the executions.
The square was filled to overflowing with people who came to watch the spectacle. The magistrate demanded a good turnout for his executions or he would punish the city by rationing food and water. In that way, he ensured that many of his subjects were present to witness his version of justice. More importantly, enough heard accounts of the executions and lived in fear of his wrath.
Alexander, Anatoly, and Captain Raisa carefully made their way toward the platform. The crowd was talking mostly about Alexander. He listened to the gossip about his apparent slaughter of General Cain and the magic he was reputed to wield. It never ceased to amaze him how otherwise reasonable people could shape tidbits of truth into the most outlandish tales.
He supposed that Jack had helped them form their ideas about the event, but still the stories he caught bits and pieces of were almost enough to make him laugh out loud. He suspected that the events about to unfold would also be blown completely out of proportion, especially if Jack had anything to say about it. Hopefully, Alexander’s visit to Kai’Gorn would break the people’s will to fight.
