by West, Shay
He tried his best to look bored and as unassuming as possible. How do they do it? Robert felt a flash of jealousy. The Volgons did not seem at all concerned that they would soon be in a fight for their lives.
The stone prison was just ahead and to the right. It had two guards, one door, and no windows. Robert noted that the building was attached to the south wing of the Patriarch's castle. He prayed that Brok was in a cell on the outside wall. If he were located in an interior cell, it would make the rescue much more difficult.
Robert was curious about the Patriarch. What sort of leader lets a man like Fa’ Vel take over his city? There was no sign of any royal soldiers or fighters. “Twas a sad day when they killed his family.”
Robert glanced down and noticed an old man sitting against the wall. He wore filthy rags, and the smell emanating from him reminded Robert of curdled milk. “Pardon?”
The man pointed his chin at the castle. “I noticed you staring at Mordaen's palace. I also noticed you ain't from these parts. Figured you might want to know a little about Faerow.” The man coughed loudly.
“I am curious why the Patriarch allowed this to happen.” Robert gestured with his arm.
“It happened so fast. Fa’ Vel came to town with his band of thugs, carrying on about the end of days and telling everyone who would listen about what he seen in the cave.” The man doubled over with a coughing fit. His face turned an alarming shade of red. Robert started to dismount, but the man waved him off. “Got the lung sickness. Nothing to be done.”
“Isn't there a sawbones, or someone who knows about herbs and healing?”
The man barked a laugh. “Not anymore there ain't. Fa’ Vel had them all put to death. The people of the city didn't put up too much of a fight. After all, they's scared of the prophets and seers and herb mistresses. They have been foretelling of the doom of Astra as well, you see. That's why people believed Fa’ Vel and his crazy story about people disappearing into the rock.”
Robert knew that the man had indeed seen just that when Brok and his Chosen had departed this planet for Gentra.
“Mordaen tried to stop the killing, but it's too hard to stop it when there're more folks that want to see the deed done than don't.” The man turned to the side and spit a huge wad of bloody mucus. “Then his family was taken, because he refused to cooperate with the murders. Fa’ Vel had them burned alive.”
Robert clenched his jaw. He knew all too well what some men were capable of. He had seen much the same when the Horde or the Cowboys attacked. Although most knew that any who were captured often suffered much worse fates.
The old man gave Robert a knowing stare. “If I didn't know any better, I would say you's waiting for something big to happen. You're strung as tight as a lute string, son.”
“Waiting for someone, actually. I want to get my business done and leave this place,” Robert said.
He was about to ask the old man more about the black badges when all hell broke loose. Everything seemed to happen at once. The side of the jail exploded in a shower of rock and debris. At the same time, the guards fell silently where they stood, the victims of some unseen foe.
Unseen until the magic shield dropped, revealing the Chosen sheathing their bloodied blades. The terrified villagers moved toward the gate, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until the square was a mass of thrashing, screaming people, all moving toward the main entrance to the city.
Robert's horse reared, and it was all he could do to stay in the saddle and watch for Fa’ Vel's men. Kyron and Feeror dispatched some of the men with black badges who were closing in on the site of the explosion.
Jon emerged from the dust near the jail, leading Brok. The Mystic had been kept in pitch dark for days, and the sudden return to daylight had left him temporarily blinded. Jon looked frantically for Keera. She was in charge of getting the old man safely out of the city. He spotted her trying to make her way through the throngs of people making for the gate.
Suddenly, the people flew to the sides, as if they had been blown over by a strong gust of wind. Keera did not hesitate. She plunged ahead, stopping her mount so quickly that she nearly toppled off the back end. She reached down a hand for the blind Mystic and wheeled her horse back around to face the gate.
She used the power to force the fleeing townsfolk out of her path to freedom.
“Stop them, you fools!” Fa’ Vel appeared at a balcony overlooking the square. His face was livid, and his eyes blazed black fury. He sent fireballs at Keera, but the girl managed to avoid the attack.
At the sound of his enraged shriek, the gates of the Patriarch's castle flew open and his minions poured out like cockroaches. They used magic and steel to fight those who had come to rescue the Mystic.
Robert found himself hard-pressed, fighting three men wearing black badges. He slashed downward with his knife, trying to guide his mare to a better defensive position. The terrified animal was not used to battle, and she fought with Robert rather than allow him to guide her to safety.
Robert cried out as his mare threw him to the ground, both of her front legs slashed out from under her by one of the toughs. He hit the dirt hard, and yet he was able to get to his feet in seconds and defend a vicious blow meant to take his head from his shoulders. Robert pulled the man in close. He could see the man's eyes widen in puzzlement and took advantage of the surprise move. While still holding onto the man's sword hand, Robert kicked hard with his right leg, smashing into the man's unprotected abdomen. The man crumpled and fell to his knees, no longer able to draw breath with his torn diaphragm and broken sternum. Robert stabbed his knife through the enemy's unprotected throat, barely noticing the hot splash of blood as he ripped his blade free.
He turned at a woman's scream and saw the Volgon warrior Seelyr take a knife to the back. Robert bellowed and ran to her, hurling his knife at the man's chest. His accuracy was perfect. The blow knocked the man on his back.
Seelyr lay in the dirt, her breath coming in gasps. Robert turned her over and winced when he saw the silver point of the blade poking through her skin. Frothy blood flowed from her mouth and Robert knew that her lung was punctured.
“Leave me. I am done for. Protect the others, Earthman.” She had a surprisingly strong grip for one who was on the verge of death.
“I will try to find one of the Astrans. They can heal you.” Robert laid her on her side and jumped to his feet.
The square was full of smoke. Several of the buildings were on fire. Just then a fireball came whizzing out of the smoke, catching one of Fa’ Vel's men in the chest. He dropped his knife, and his gut-wrenching scream rent the air. He ran forward a few steps before dropping to his knees. Robert fought a wave of nausea as he caught a whiff of his burning flesh. He thought it smelled like roast boar.
He ran toward the fireball's point of origin and found Gwen covered in blood and soot.
“I need you little one. Seelyr is badly injured.”
Gwen nodded and followed as quickly as her stunted legs could carry her. “Look out!” She screamed as she gave Robert a hard shove with the power. He hit the ground with a thud and groaned as he felt something large land on his exposed back. Just as quickly, the weight was gone, and he could breathe again.
Robert grimaced as he stood. One of Fa’ Vel's men lay on his back, eyes glazed in death. He could not see any wounds on the man and wanted to ask Gwen what she had done. On second thought, maybe I don't want to know.
Gwen was at Seelyr's side. The look on her face told Robert that she would be unable to heal the stricken woman. “We need Saemus and Kaelin, or Jon. I'm not strong enough.” The tiny girl struggled to her feet, looking helplessly at the throng of people running through the streets and heading for the safety of the open gates, wondering how she was ever going to be able to move through them fast enough to find the twins or Jon Stone.
Robert felt as if things were spinning out of control. He had been able to keep Tess Golden from his thoughts during the fighting, but seeing S
eelyr lying in a growing pool of blood brought her face flooding back into his mind. He tried to focus on an image of her while she had been alive, but it kept changing to her lying on her pallet, hazel eyes filmy with death, throat open in that red, ragged wound, blood dripping onto the wood floor.
If we lose a second Chosen, we are finished.
He left Gwen with Seelyr and sent his thoughts to the telepaths, praying to God that one of them was near the twins or the boy. Will God even hear me on this planet?
--We have relayed your thoughts to the twins. They are attempting to heal one of my comrades, and they will be with you as soon as they can.
--What about the boy? The one they call Jon Stone? Robert did not think that Seelyr had much time.
--I have yet to make contact with that one.
--Has anyone else been injured? Robert feared the answer.
--Several. It is difficult to make sense of everyone's thoughts at this moment. You all seem incapable of focusing in times of stress. Fascinating, really.
Robert fought a rush of rage and frustration. He could make out the faint sounds of moaning and screaming coming from all directions. How many of the cries were Chosen and how many from townfolk, he did not know. --Did Brok and Keera make it to safety?
--No. They were ambushed just before they reached the main gate.
Robert gritted his teeth. --Are they injured?
A pause and then, --They are not mortally wounded.
Gwen's cry of despair cut short his communication with the telepath. Robert ran to her and Seelyr, fearing the worst.
Gwen held the now dead woman's head in her lap, her tears falling gently on Seelyr's face. Robert sank to his knees. He reached out with a trembling hand and closed her eyes, sending up a prayer to God, trying to take comfort in the familiar words. He scanned the streets for Fa’ Vel or his men, but there was no sign of them. A few of the townsfolk peered out from barely opened doors or from behind curtains, wanting nothing to do with the group that had brought more bloodshed to their town.
“No! It cannot be!”
Robert turned and stared dully at Brok. His eyes were red-rimmed and watery. He rubbed them and blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision.
Brok sank to his knees next to Seelyr and laid his hands over her face. Robert could not hear the words he whispered, but his skin prickled. He gasped in revulsion as he saw the woman's chest rise and fall while thickened blooded dripped from the wound on her chest. Blood poured from her open mouth.
“It's too late. She is with the good Spirits now.” Brok sighed and sat back heavily.
He looked up as Gerok and Forka came running toward them, emerging like ghosts from the smoke. Gerok's face was hard as stone. He stood over Seelyr, gazing at her eyes, unblinking and vacant.
Brok stood, his face contorted with rage. He advanced on Gerok and Forka. “This is your fault! What were you thinking?” Brok screamed, his voice echoing across the square. He covered his eyes, as if he could shut out what he had witnessed.
“We were not to blame…”
Brok turned to face them and the two snapped their mouths shut. “You are to blame. And Mirka as well. Our duty is to protect the Chosen! Our lives mean nothing!” His gesture took in all three of them. “Your foolish rescue has cost us the lives of four of the Chosen. Four!” Brok's voice broke as a sob escaped him.
“We lost Mirka,” Forka said.
Brok raised his eyes and met Forka's, tears blurring his vision. He and Mirka had grown as close as siblings during their Guardian training.
“We are doomed.” The words came out before he could stop them. He staggered to a nearby building that had managed to escape the fireballs and sank to the step. His head dropped to his hands, and he sobbed. He cried for the loss of life on this day, he cried for the loss of life that would surely occur when the Mekans destroyed more worlds, he cried for the loss of time with his family, and he cried for the unfairness of it all.
Slowly, one by one or in pairs, the remaining Chosen arrived in the square. Those that had sustained fewer injuries carried the fallen. It was silent, save for the moaning that still echoed in the distance. Brok knew that as Mystic of this world, he should be rushing off to see what aid he could give, but he could not make himself care.
Mark gently laid Brent Fields down next to Seelyr. Saemus placed Number 3 next to Brent, and Sloan placed Number 2 on the other side of Seelyr. No one spoke for a few moments as they gazed at their fallen comrades.
“Where is Mirka?” Brok asked. His voice sounded as though it came from far away.
Gerok swallowed. “She was burned up. The fireballs created by the magic leave nothing behind.”
Brok could hear someone retching. It is over.
A scream broke through Brok's dismal thoughts. He jumped to his feet, expecting more of Fa’ Vel's men to come running through the fog.
Jon came calmly striding through the swirling smoke, his eyes jet black. Following closely behind like a well-trained pet was Fa’ Vel.
“What has happened?” Brok asked.
“Isn't it obvious? I have caught the big, bad man.” Jon's voice sounded low and guttural, so unlike his normal voice that those watching got goose bumps and backed away from the pair.
“Yes, I can see that.” Brok was at a loss for words. Of all the things he expected to come through the fog, Jon, holding Fa’ Vel prisoner, was not one of them.
He shouted in alarm as the man flew through the air, directly at the building. Brok side-stepped and almost tripped over one of the dead men lying in the street. Fa’ Vel landed with an audible thud and crumpled to the ground.
Fa’ Vel flew up again, and this time the magic kept him in place. The man's eyes bulged from their sockets, and Brok was horrified and sickened to see his chest caving in.
“Jon! Stop this!”
“Why? He is responsible for all those deaths. He is getting exactly what he deserves.” Jon's matter-of-fact tone was more terrifying than the sound of the man's cracking ribs.
“If you kill him like this, you are no better than he is,” Brok said, trying to block out the sounds coming from the dying man.
Jon sighed heavily, and Fa’ Vel tumbled to the ground like a rag doll. Saemus and Kaelin were already linked and sending the power into the man, healing his wounds as best they could. The two were weary from the battle and from healing the major hurts of those who had survived the fight.
Fa’ Vel sat up, coughing bloody phlegm. “I knew you didn't have it in you.”
Brok turned to the man. “One word out of you, and I will finish what Jon started.”
Fa’ Vel laughed maniacally. “I know what you are. All of you.” His gaze took in the whole group standing in the square. “I saw you!” His eyes had a feverish glow, and his voice was barely above a whisper. “You will bring about the death of us all.”
“Fool! We are here to help!” Gwen retorted.
“Hush, child! Mind your tongue!” Brok glared.
“What does it matter if he knows? If everyone knows? We have failed. They will all know soon enough anyway.” Martha gestured wildly, her hair in disarray, blue eyes grief-stricken.
“It isn't over yet. We can't give up.” Sloan reached out to comfort her but stopped short, guilt at his role in her best friend Tess’ death preventing him from making that contact.
“Will all of you watch what you say? It is forbidden!” Brok tried to stop all of the Chosen from revealing the prophecy while keeping a watchful eye on Fa’ Vel.
“So was coming to our worlds early, but that didn't stop your Masters from going against the letter of the prophecy did it? I think the time for silence is over. We have lost five Chosen and a Guardian. The Mekans are coming. These people need to be told so that they can protect themselves.” Saemus hated going against his teacher, but he had been growing weary of secrets, the prophecy, and their destiny. He looked to Kaelin and gave her a small smile.
Fa’ Vel watched the exchange like a hawk. “You
wish to throw me off your trail, but it will not work. You are tied into the destruction of our world.”
He is not wrong. Brok wanted to put his hands over his ears and shut out the babble of voices.
“Can I ask you something?” Jon approached Fa’ Vel, his hands clenched at his sides.
Fa’ Vel gave the boy a knowing smile. “I know what you want, boy. I am not certain you are ready for the answer I will give.”
“I deserve to know why you took me.”
Fa’ Vel looked at Jon so long that the boy began to fidget under the intensity of the gaze. “You want to know why I chose you and why it was necessary to kidnap you and bring you to the Queen.” At Jon's emphatic nod, he laughed. “There wasn't a need for any of it. I have eyes and ears scattered across both continents, bringing me tidbits and news that I can use to my advantage. When I heard that Queen Cheye desired a young man for her magic pools, I thought I could find someone suitable and pocket some gold in the process.
“And then you came walking into my tavern.” The man smiled at Jon as though he were looking on a piece of choice beef. “I could sense the potential in you to be a powerful dark magician. I will admit I was surprised at how much power you had. And you were not even aware of it.”
“None of this matters. We need to free the Patriarch so he can regain control of the city,” Brok said, suddenly unwilling to hear another word the man had to say.
“You will never free the Patriarch. My men will kill him if they hear you coming. They might have already done so.” Fa’ Vel looked back to Jon.
“As a dark magician, I could sense your ability to touch dark magic. But I was surprised at your raw strength. Hard to believe that you could have gotten such powers from two country bumpkins.” The man's eyes widened, and he laughed cruelly. “Is it possible? Could it really be?” The man's laughter rang out, chilling Jon to the bone.
He is as mad as Mystic Anali! “I will not listen to this any longer.”
