by Adam Carter
“My job used to be to kill people, or to take them to others who wanted to do it themselves. Now there’s antagonising people.”
He did not know why he always tried his best to alienate Wren. On this part of the mission she was his only backup and if he annoyed her too much she would be very unlikely to return for him if he found himself in danger. Of course, they were both likely going to die here, for he could not see this plan even working. He pondered briefly whether he was alienating her on purpose, so she could survive when he died, but he was not so kind. He had already firmly decided that if only one of them was making it out of this it was going to be him. He had not been chased around by Wren for ten years just to sacrifice his life for her.
That would have made him a hero.
*
The stupid snake man was going to get them killed. Wren harboured doubts about this part of the plan, but had never considered Asperathes might be so ridiculous as to rile their captors. She had known him long enough to recognise that most of his jokes were mere bluster. He liked for people to think he did not care about things, and that he was always in control of a situation. Wren had come to understand the reality was much sadder: that Asperathes had no one in his life. The only people he ever really grew to know well were those he was researching either to kill or to take to the authorities.
Still, she refused to feel sorry for him. No one had forced him into that life, and he had never once denied the crimes he had committed.
They were being marched clear across the courtyard and Wren felt wretched. The derisive look from the other captain was bad enough, but now she was being forced to run a silent gauntlet through to the keep. To either side were soldiers to whom she was equal, and civilians her job told her to protect. She did not want to look into their eyes, to see their hatred, their disappointment, their fear. What Wren was doing was necessary, but once it was over she doubted the baroness would admit to what Moya had done to her. Saving the baroness was Wren’s sole mission, and being liked or respected did not enter into her decision. Still, it would have been nice to be sure the baroness would not just kill her once this was all over.
Arriving at the keep provided little relief, for the soldiers remained with them, escorting them through familiar corridors. They were not taken to the baroness’s private chambers, but to an area Wren had guarded many times in her youth. The vault of the baroness was a remarkable level of the keep, and young Wren had caught glimpses of it from time to time, had even once ventured down the stone staircase to peer like a voyeur into the glowing realm.
As they reached that staircase this time, the soldiers stopped.
“Go down,” the captain said – Wren did not even know her name.
“Down?” Wren asked. “Into the vault?”
“The baroness will meet you there. She doesn’t want protection, but I’m telling you right now, if either of you harms her I’ll strangle you with your own intestines.”
Wren was glad there were people like this captain still serving the baroness. “You’re a good woman, Captain.”
“And you’re a traitor. Now get down there.”
Thankfully this time Asperathes did not have any witty rejoinders to offer and even waited until they were halfway down the staircase before he asked about where they were headed.
“You’ll see,” was all Wren replied.
At the bottom of the stairs they came to a door and Wren pushed it with her shoulder. It opened slowly, grindingly, and revealed what Wren knew was going to be the dazzling brilliance she had seen so long ago by peering through the crack in the door. What she was met with was both disappointing and odd, for the only thing the door led to was a dark empty room with a large mirror set into the wall opposite.
“Some room,” Asperathes said, gazing around. “I’m so glad you kept me in suspense.”
“This doesn’t make sense. I’ve been down here. There were riches and … and … there were gold and jewels and everything.”
“Maybe she’s spent it.”
“Spent it? There was a fortune.”
“Ah, I see, Very clever.”
“What is?” She could see Asperathes had moved around to look at the rear of the door. Moving to join him, Wren was even more confused when she saw there was a pattern painted onto the back of the door. In strangely glowing paint, there were depicted very rough images of rubies, sapphires and more gold than an elephant could use as a pool.
“It’s a trick,” Asperathes said. “You got stationed at the top of the stairs to guard this door, I take it?”
Wren nodded, unable to speak.
“Well, the baroness knew you’d give in and take a peek. I reckon all the sentries did. They see the mirror and think they’re looking at gold, when they’re actually seeing a reflection of the door. That way everyone thinks the baroness is swimming in luxury, when in fact she’s just like the rest of us. Poor as a blind man’s sense of colour.”
“But why? Why lie about that?”
“Because she doesn’t want people to think she’s like the rest of us in any way at all. That’s the kind of woman you’re serving so patriotically.”
Wren stiffened. “Just because she has gold painted onto a door, I’m not going to betray her for you.”
“She probably killed the painter as well.”
“Speculation.”
“But likely true.”
“And what are we doing down here? Moya wants us to find out the baroness pretends to be something she’s not?”
“I think,” Moya said, “we all do that, dear.”
Wren was almost relieved to find Moya in the room with them, and prided herself on not jumping. Moya flashed a spark of fire from her fingertip, setting it to a torch hanging from the wall. The light did not reveal much else: it was still an empty room.
“You didn’t kill us before,” Wren said. “That was unexpected.”
“Are you here to ask me to kill you? It doesn’t fit that well into my needs, but since you’re here it would be rude not to. Now that I think about it, just so long as Crenshaw stays alive, it doesn’t make that much difference what happens to the pair of you.”
“We’re here to offer you a deal,” Asperathes said. “But first we want to speak with the baroness.”
“You want to convince the baroness I’m using her,” Moya said. “What do you offer me?”
“Something you want,” Asperathes said. “More than that I’m not saying.”
“Something I want,” Moya said, pondering over the matter. “But, dear Asp, there’s so little I want in this world. I have the body of a fine and powerful sorceress, I have a kingdom, and I have such good friends. What more could a person want?”
“What I have.”
Moya silently reflected, then shrugged. “I’ll play your game, Asp, even though I realise it’s a trap. I remember your mind games from the dungeon. I watched you and Crenshaw all the time, marvelled at the ridiculousness of some of the things you got up to.”
“Then stop talking and bring out the baroness.”
“I’m here,” the baroness said, and this time both Wren and Asperathes did start, for neither had seen her in the corner of the room. The baroness stepped out, raised her chin and said, “Now talk.”
“Ma’am,” Wren said, “I know this is difficult to believe but Moya’s in control of your mind. She’s using you for her own ends and if you don’t break free of her spell she’ll destroy your kingdom.”
The very fact that Wren managed to get out all those words told her something bad was about to happen. As the baroness listened, she had a fair idea what that bad thing was going to be.
“No one’s controlling anyone, Captain,” the baroness said. “Least of all me.”
“That’s not Moya,” Wren said quickly. “There’s a faerie inside her head named …”
“Kastra, yes. He likes to be called Moya now. It’s less confusing for him.”
Wren could not believe what was happening. All their fighting
, all their struggles, Mannin dying and everything; and there was no plot after all. The seriousness of the situation hit Wren more severely when she realised that the wasted year did not count for anything, nor did the damage she and her party had done to the castle. If the baroness was not under anyone’s glamour, it meant one thing and one thing only.
Captain Wren really was a traitor.
And traitors deserved whatever was coming to them.
*
Asperathes knew he had lost Wren, was surprised she was still standing. Humans tended to do that, could not shove something firmly into the past and get on with the present to safeguard the future. He had a horrible feeling Wren might be turning on him soon and he needed to get his work done before the baroness issued the woman any commands.
In fact, this revelation also ruined the entire plan, for now Asperathes would not be able to do that which he had come to do, which meant all he could do now was hope to cause a little confusion and run away. In doing so, however, he would be abandoning Wren, which did not seem fair since he did not even yet know which way she would turn. If she remained by his side it did not seem right to abandon her. On the other hand, he didn’t care about her welfare so opted to save his own skin.
“Stay back,” he said in his most dramatic voice as he whipped something out. “Stay back, unless you want me to use this.”
Moya’s face twisted into something between rage and outrage – Asperathes had never been able to tell the difference. But she did not make any move towards him, which he took as a good sign. The object he was holding up was an amulet, and if Moya wanted it so badly she was not about to make any move against him.
“You said you didn’t have it,” Moya said as calmly as she could. “I looked into your soul, Asperathes, and saw you were telling the truth.”
“That’s because I didn’t have it. Valok took it off me ages ago. But I have it back now, and rest assured I’ll destroy this thing if you don’t let the two of us out of here.”
“Out?” Moya asked, confused. “You want to escape? Why did you even come here?”
The plan was falling apart but Wren did not know whether she much cared. The baroness, her mistress, was not being controlled, and that changed everything. Manipulated, possibly, but not controlled.
Remembering that her life hung in the balance, Wren tried to pay attention to whatever was being said. Asperathes had produced his amulet and Moya was asking him some ridiculous question.
“Out?” Moya asked, confused. “You want to escape? Why did you even come here?”
“They came,” the baroness said, “because they thought you were controlling me. Keep up, Moya. Captain Wren.”
“Ma’am.” Wren snapped to attention, her brain a mass of nervous confusion.
“I’ve long considered you incompetent. More recently I changed my opinion of you and thought you a traitor. Now you’re something of an incompetent traitor, but if I look at this from your point of view you’re actually my most loyal soldier. To attack this entire castle simply because you thought I was being mind-controlled is going above and beyond the call of duty. In fact, I’d say you were up for a promotion.”
“Ma’am?”
“Yes, why not? You were willing to die and have everyone see you as a traitor, just so long as you saved your baroness? That takes some guts, wouldn’t you say, Moya?”
“It does, Baroness, but we’re still killing her.”
“No, I don’t think so. I think Wren is going to be my new adviser. She’ll make sure I don’t suffer from … I don’t know … mind-control spells further along the line?”
Moya set her jaw firm, one eye ever on the amulet Asperathes wielded like a ward. “And if I insist?” the sorceress asked.
“Well, if you insist, that would make me believe Wren was right and that I’m already under mind control and just don’t know it. Because, after all, I wouldn’t know it, would I? Am I under mind control, Moya?”
“Certainly not.”
“Lovely. Counsellor Wren, I’ll explain your position to my high-ranking staff and the whole castle will love you for what you’ve done. General Wren I think, as well.”
Wren’s knees felt weak. This was everything she had ever wanted, being handed to her in the span of a single minute. All her dreams were coming true and she could not wait to tell Canlin. Perhaps even he would receive some form of promotion: at the very least he would be made captain and given command of his own regiment.
There was of course Asperathes to consider. They had come as allies but now things had changed so much that Wren no longer knew whose side she was on. Asperathes would be worrying, but not as much as Wren was. She hoped the baroness would not command her to attack him. She had no problem with arresting him and making him stand trial, but they had come as allies and Wren had never betrayed an ally in her life.
Refusal of a direct order, however, would be considered the ultimate betrayal.
“Drop the amulet and you can live,” Moya told Asperathes.
“I don’t trust you. I’m backing out of here. Wren, you coming?”
“I … Asp, no. Just surrender and you can stand trial. Don’t push this to a fight.”
“Then I’m leaving alone.” He had already taken two small steps back. “Don’t any of you try to stop me.”
“General Wren,” the baroness said. “Stop him for me.”
“Ma’am?”
“Take it as a final test, General. Stop your former partner and by morning everyone in this castle will see you as a hero.”
Wren’s hear sank, not because of the order she was being given, but for the wording. She had come to hate that word, had come to understand that if there was one thing in life upon which she could always rely, it was that heroes did not exist. If she was to consider herself a hero, it meant she was a charlatan, and if she was a charlatan it meant she would be lying to herself.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said. “I still believe in you, I still worship you as my mistress, but I’m not going to be a hero for anyone.”
The baroness’s face fell. “You’re turning down greatness for the sake of this creature?”
Wren did not know what she was trying to say. A part of her wanted nothing more than to complete her mission and put Asperathes behind bars, but to be seen as a hero for the doing of her duty was not a sacrifice she was willing to make.
Then there was Asperathes himself. He was not her enemy, nor was he a simple name on an arrest warrant. He had his faults, but if he was arrested he would be executed, and Wren could not see that his crimes justified that sentence.
“I’ll arrest him,” she said, “if you can guarantee he won’t hang.”
The baroness’s eyes became as thin as those of needles. “You dare dictate terms to me, Wren? You dare talk to me as an equal?”
“Ma’am, I mean no disrespect, I only …”
“Kill them, Moya. Kill them both.”
*
Sometimes Asperathes wished people would stop saying whatever happened to be floating around in their heads at the time. It was another bad habit of humans he would never understand. “Wren, behind me,” he shouted. She was so confused – dazed might have been a better word – that she hesitated. Asperathes glanced at the door, but could not leave her, not now she had stuck up for him like that. Lunging the other way, he grabbed her arm and yanked her towards him, all the while holding out the amulet as though it was a cross to a vampire. “Have your mid-life crisis tomorrow, Captain.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I …”
“Less talking, more leading the way out of here. I have to walk backwards, remember, and there are soldiers at the top of that staircase.”
“No problem.”
Asperathes began to think at last things might be going his way. Then he saw the quizzical look on Moya’s face. Her body was slightly more relaxed than it had been and she was staring curiously at the amulet.
“Take a good look,” Asperathes said. “Do anyt
hing other than look and I destroy it.”
“Go on, then.”
“Uh, excuse me?”
There was humour to Moya’s eyes now. “Captain Wren trusts you. I’m touched. Can’t say the same for all her soldiers. Valok, for instance, doesn’t seem to trust you at all. Otherwise he might have given you my amulet, rather than this fake.”
Asperathes’s blood ran cold. “Fake? You’re bluffing, you want me to throw it aside and …”
Moya waved a finger and the amulet crumbled in Asperathes’s hand. As he watched his only chance at survival turn to dust, he shouted, “Run!”
Turning, he got only half a step before his body was jerked back through magic. He tried to run, but while his legs were moving he was not getting anywhere because he was already a foot off the ground.
“I could burn you,” Moya said, walking around to face him, “but I’ve always had a question for you, Asp.”
Wren threw herself at the sorceress, and a blast of light blew her off her feet.
“Fire away,” Asperathes said, fighting for a means out of this, although being unable to move he could not think of a thing. “I’m all ears.”
“Back when we were in the dungeon together,” Moya said, “you always collected other people’s bootlaces. Was it because of idle hands, Asp? Was that really the only reason? Or was there something more? Was it because you’d seen the future and knew there was no way to avoid destiny?”
“I’ve never been very good at mind games, Kastra.”
Moya shrugged. “I can live without knowing.”
Asperathes felt something moving at his hip. From his belt pouch a long stream of bootlaces floated through the air. His eyes tracked their slow progress and whatever Moya had in mind for them he suddenly wished he had not collected so many damn laces over the years.
“Kastra,” he said, “think for a moment. We spent years together and we were never enemies. All the struggles we faced, all the hardships endured. We survived the dungeon, we survived everything they threw at us.” The laces touched his arm and snaked all the way up to his chest. He struggled, but the spell Kastra had him under held him firm. “We were never enemies, Kastra, we were never enemies.”
