Forbidden Magic

by Genia Avers

  “You have found me.” Kamber yearned to ask the guard about Ronan and Remington, but he knew the Gatslian only by sight. He could not recall anything about the man’s character, nothing to assure he wasn’t a traitor.

  The Creshinite wheezed. His hands shook.

  Kamber had heard the foreigners were afraid of him, but he hadn’t believed the tales. When the soldier didn’t speak, he barked, “Come man, my reputation is not as bad as that. State your purpose.”

  The Creshinite attempted a smile he didn’t quite manage. Maybe his reputation was as bad as that.

  Kamber looked to the Gatslian. “Maybe you can explain?”

  The Gatslian guard grinned as the foreigner continued to sputter and cough. “Sire, allow me to present Sir Dallison. An envoy from Lord Creshin. He carries a letter from King Rothart.”

  Kamber raised his eyes, waiting patiently until the Creshinite stopped hacking. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Dallison. Now tell me, for what purpose have you breached our border?”

  “Sire.” The Creshinite put his fist over his heart. “We do not breach. We come in peace. King Rothart gave us leave to ride into Gatsle. I have his letter.” The foreigner fumbled inside his uniform coat and produced a document. He stood, holding the letter.

  Kamber waved the paper away, not wanting the man to approach. He no longer suspected a trick, but a Dökkálfar didn’t die from being too cautious. “For what purpose do you come in peace?”

  “We are on a specific mission, sire. Lord Creshin authorized a special envoy of mercenaries, my men, to pursue and arrest a band of renegades acting without official consent.”

  Kamber arched a brow. The mercenary cleared his throat. “We are also looking for Lord Creshin.”

  “You’re looking for Creshin here? Why?”

  The mercenary paled. “He is missing.”

  Kamber glanced at the Gatsle guard who nodded as if his head bob would validate the mercenary’s story.

  “Our lord left last week, his destination Gatsle. He came to your shoreline to escort King Rothart to the summit. He has not returned to our country.”

  The story didn’t ring true. Rothart had departed Gatsle three days earlier. “Where’s my father?”

  He thought the mercenary looked uncomfortable. “He arrived at Creshin’s compound two days earlier. Your king didn’t realize our lord had planned to escort him, so he came straight to Creshin’s palace. Rothart is waiting there for his return.”

  Not bloody likely. There was definitely a hole in the story. His father wouldn’t hang around for anyone—unless it was a mistress.

  Bloody hell. “Why is there only one Gatsle guard with this party?”

  “Sire,” the Gatslian guard interceded. “There are four Creshinite parties searching for the renegades in the north, east, south, and west. All of them have Gatslian guards assigned. Since most of the palace guard was with the carriage, we are understrength. Dallison offered to help us with the search.”

  “Just how are we to distinguish between the good Creshinites and the bad?” Kamber snapped.

  “Everyone under our protection also carries Gatslian colors,” the guard replied.

  He nodded. His pursuers had only carried Creshin’s banner. “I believe I’ve just had an encounter with some of your renegades. They retreated when they saw you—even though you have fewer soldiers.”

  “Ah,” the mercenary answered, “we didn’t really expect to find them here in the west.”

  Kamber’s concern about trickery vaporized but he didn’t allow his gaze to waiver. “Why aren’t you chasing the renegades then?”

  The Gatslian guard looked more uncomfortable. “I…I wasn’t sure what to do, sire. I thought…well I wanted to make sure it was really you. Finding you and the princess ranked more pressing than capturing the renegades.”

  “I see. What of the search?”

  Grimness obliterated the relief on the guard's face. “We have had no success, sire. Not yet. We hoped the princess was with you. We have seen no sign of her.”

  “Damn.” The curse escaped before Kamber could regain his diplomatic poise. “Forgive me, Lord Dallison. I’m sure you understand my distress.” He explained that Subena had been with him before he had to divert the renegade Creshinites.

  He turned to the guard. “What happened to the riders and the carriage headed toward Mydrias?”

  The guard winced. “The group was ambushed sire. Remington mounted a counterattack and one of our guards was hurt. We killed half of the attackers, but the rest retreated. There was no one to interrogate.”

  “Where is Remington now?”

  “He’s leading the search party to the north. He’ll be greatly relieved when he hears you are well. When he barged into your study and found…”

  Kamber nodded, remembering the dummy hanging from his office ceiling. Once Ronan was safe, he and Remington would have a good chuckle over a pitcher of ale. “And Ronan?”

  The guard looked confused.

  “Ronan was with Remington,” Kamber said, not liking the confusion flickering in the guard's expression. “Are you saying Ronan is not with Remington?”

  “No sir. Remington saw the young prince get out of the coach near the palace. Remington went after the men who attacked the carriage. We were not aware that the prince was missing.”

  “Damn.” Kamber swore again. This time, he didn’t apologize. “Dallison, do you have any idea who’s behind these renegades? Do they have any reason to capture my brother?”

  “I’m not sure about your brother, sire, but Lord Creshin fears his daughter, Lady Vilavettia, is leading the renegades.”

  When Kamber stared hard at him, the Creshinite raised his hand. “If the attackers were involved in your brother’s disappearance, they’ll be severely punished. No matter who’s involved.” His meaning was clear.

  “So what’s your plan? How many renegades are we talking about?”

  “I don’t know the exact number, sire, but we fear at least one hundred soldiers are involved in the rebellion. Alas, we do not know why they have come to Gatsle.”

  “How many attackers did Remington and his men kill?”

  “Sixteen,” the Gatsle guard replied.

  Kamber rubbed his thumb over his chin. “There were about thirty riders behind me. If your intelligence is correct, that leaves over fifty men unaccounted for.”

  “We’ll track down every last one.”

  Kamber nodded. “I thank you, but I’d appreciate it if you’d continue the search for my brother. Once he’s safe, we’ll assist with the renegades.”

  Dallison bowed low. “My services are at your disposal, sire.”

  Kamber grunted his thanks. “Go, then. Guard.” He nodded at the Gatslian. “Go with him.”

  Dallison motioned to his soldiers and the mercenaries mounted. He addressed Kamber. “Allow me to leave two of my soldiers with you.”

  “One will be sufficient. Again, I thank you.” He turned toward his soldier. “Guard, I need your assaulter.”

  The Gatslian complied. Dallison assigned a soldier, Merk, to ride with Kamber.

  He waited while Arston, his men, and the guard rode in the direction of the retreating renegades. He nodded toward Merk. “We ride.”

  He didn’t wait to see if the mercenary followed. He circled back, heading to the area where he’d last seen Subena.

  * * * *

  Panic required too much effort. Subena had clawed at the door until her hands were raw. The slate would not budge.

  Giving up on the door, she’d raced through the black passageway, still holding onto a faint hope there might be another opening. She hadn’t found one. Despite having the skills of the ancients—heightened senses, empathy, greater strength—she’d failed. She hadn’t even found Ronan. She’d kept her wits and found the entrance again.

  Subena didn’t fear death. The thing she feared was entombment. Being buried alive.

  Danger stalked Kamber and Ronan was most likely
dead. She’d stopped sensing his pain. She mumbled new prayers. Her words were for the men in her life and for the treaty. If relations disintegrated between Mydrias and Gatsle because of her death, all her efforts were for naught.

  If only I could leave a message.

  Her hope of a rescue had been snuffed with the light. Whoever locked the door would have taken Kamber’s cloak.

  Her last thoughts needed to be good ones, for she had no doubt she would die. Ancient skills would allow her to heal herself, over time, and she could endure extended periods without air, but neither advantage would be indefinite.

  She closed her eyes and imagined festivals and music. When that didn’t work, she remembered Kamber’s kiss, his touch. She felt better.

  To maintain her lightened mood, she sang. After a few off-key choruses, she stood and swayed to the beat. In the tight space she danced, moving faster and faster, gyrating and whirling.

  Wham. “Ouch.”

  Her head throbbed from the impact with the tunnel wall. Her breathing grew ragged. Panic returned to take her.

  Taking deep slow breaths, she exhaled forcefully and rubbed her head. She’d almost stopped wheezing when something large ran across her extended leg. She jumped, again hitting her head against the dirt wall. Large amounts of rock and earth began to fall. The tunnel caved in.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Kamber dismounted at the spot where he’d last seen his wife. Her footprints were visible on the terrain.

  “Good girl.” She’d left him a clear trail.

  He remembered the accompanying mercenary and turned to face him. “I’ll look ahead. You follow behind and cover our backs.”

  Merk nodded. Kamber felt strangely comfortable with the foreigner, certain he could be trusted.

  He followed Subena's tracks. “Let’s hope she’s halfway to the palace,” he said to Pollo. Her tracks had veered from the edge of the trees. In the opposite direction from the palace.

  The equestor sensed his unease and sidestepped. “Steady, boy. Maybe she thought she found a short cut.” He didn’t feel as confident as he sounded. A keen sense of direction didn’t rank as one of his wife’s better skills.

  Still, she would have observed the terrain. If she’d deviated from the path, it was no accident. There were enough clues to indicate she expected him to follow.

  He dropped the reins and signaled for Pollo to stay. He followed the footprints at a quicker pace, growing more concerned as her tiny footprints led him further into the brush.

  Feeling a sense of urgency, he began to jog. Once it grew dark, her tracks would vanish in the dusk.

  He pulled up short. Subena’s prints intersected with larger ones, obviously male. “Damn. We should have taken Reklaw’s boots.”

  “Sire?”

  He motioned at the ground. Alarm crossed the mercenary’s face.

  The guard muttered, “Acabeia.” Kamber recognized the northern curse.

  A few meters later, the terrain become rocky. The tracks disappeared.

  “Where are footprints?” The mercenary asked.

  Kamber shook his head. “Good question.” Had she been captured? He saw no sign of a struggle.

  He studied the terrain and noticed the large boulder. Maybe she’d hidden behind the big rock. He headed toward the huge stone, hoping she’d left him another clue.

  As he got closer, he noted the area around the rock bore no evidence of footprints. “Swept clean.” He growled, now almost certain she’d been captured.

  “Sire,” the mercenary hissed. Merk had his head against the rock. “I hear something.”

  Kamber heard it, too, an indistinguishable noise. People from the north were not of their kind. The Creshinites possessed no superior skills. Except acute hearing. Maybe Merk could decipher the sound.

  “Do you know what it is?”

  The mercenary held up his hand. He pressed his ear against a different part of the rock. “You will think me crazy, but the rock screams.”

  Both men circled the large boulder, tilting their heads to hear better. Kamber stopped moving. Merk froze, too.

  The sound of a blade being drawn from a sheath echoed in the oncoming darkness. He spun. Merk drew his sword in a flash.

  Kamber lifted his weapon. “Show yourself.”

  They watched the underbrush rustle and grow still. Kamber relaxed his grip on the assaulter. “If they mean us harm, they seemed to have reconsidered.”

  Merk held his sword ready. The mercenary circled the rock. From the corner of his vision, Kamber saw him fall.

  “Acabeia.”

  “You okay?”

  “Aye. But… What the hellfire? Sire, this looks like a…how you say it? A knob.”

  Kamber leaned over him for a better look. “Here.” He handed Merk his weapon. “Stand guard while I take a look.”

  “But sire,” the guard whispered, “I don't know how to fire this.”

  “Whoever is out there won't know that. Just look fierce.” Kamber studied the knob, but Merk's awkward stance intruded on his peripheral vision.

  He rose and took the assaulter from the mecenary. “Here, hold it like this.” He mimicked an aggressive posture.

  Merk shifted the weapon and acted ferocious, but the positioning of the weapon didn’t look realistic.

  “Ah, hell,” Kamber muttered. “Let’s hope anyone watching doesn’t know how the assaulter should be held.”

  He turned his attention back to the knob. He pushed and pulled. Finally, a door on the rock opened. As it swung around, the heavy slate knocked Merk in the back. He fell forward. The weapon discharged.

  “Acabeia!” Kamber muttered as he grabbed the weapon and re-pumped the mechanism. He used his other hand to help the mercenary stand. “Are you okay?”

  Merk tried to speak but liquid flowed from his mouth.

  “Shit.” Kamber propped the mercenary against the side of the rock and examined the soldier’s back. “I think the door crushed a rib. You feel dizzy?”

  Merk shook his head. Kamber knew he lied.

  “Can you hang on for a bit? I must find the princess.”

  Merk spat. “Go.”

  “Good man.” Kamber stopped before he patted the man’s back.

  Rocks and dirt covered the entrance. He studied the earth, barely able to see. He backed away from the door.

  Subena cannot possibly be in there. His little wife would not have gone underground without a fight.

  Behind him, Merk’s breathing rattled. “You okay?”

  “Go, sire. You must go in. I hear breathing, but the breaths grow faint. Be quick.”

  Kamber tossed rocks from the doorway, careful not to sling any debris in Merk’s direction.

  “Toss me a couple of those stones.” Merk’s voice had graveled from his pain.

  Kamber stopped moving boulders, confused. “We need light,” Merk said.

  “Of course. Fire.” To see in the tunnel entrance.

  He grabbed two rocks and pitched them toward Merk’s feet. He raced to the edge of the woods and grabbed some dried weeds for the mercenary. While the mercenary worked on starting a fire, Kamber crawled through the open door to resume his excavation.

  “Be careful,” Merk warned. “You do not want the rocks to…what is word?”

  “Cave in.” The man voiced Kamber’s fear, but he didn’t have time for caution. He worked for fifteen minutes before he also heard breathing.

  Subena. He’d recognize her soft exhalation anywhere.

  He hadn’t cleared enough debris away to get through the tunnel. He dug with fervor. Not stopping. Desperation kept his muscles strong.

  Twenty minutes later, he glimpsed something. “Subena?” Was that a white-blonde curl?

  A surge of energy sent rocks and dirt flying through the opening. Minutes seemed like eternity, but finally he cleared enough of the debris to get through.

  He rushed into the hole. To her.

  “Subena.” Thank God.

  She didn’t rep
ly. Her unconscious body clung to life—barely.

  He carried her from the underground and positioned her frail body on the ground. He whispered, “Breathe, baby.”

  Merk hobbled over. “She needs healer.”

  Kamber nodded. He lifted her almost lifeless frame, holding her as if she was made of glass. He placed her on Pollo. “So do you, Merk.”

  Kamber fought the wetness encircling his eyes. Despair clamped onto his heart like an angry demon. He could not lose her now that he’d come to love her. He couldn’t lose his true mate.

  “Take her to the palace. Pollo knows the way.”

  The mercenary’s head popped. “But…”

  “I cannot help her—she needs the healer. I must find my brother. He’s in this hole. Otherwise, Subena would never have entered it.” How horrible her experience must have been.

  He turned so Merk wouldn’t see his pain. No time to waste.

  He rushed into the tunnel knowing his heart would burst if he looked at Subena again. “Please, God. Let her survive.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Kamber wasn’t afraid of death, but his fear for Ronan was all-consuming. He could deal with any adversary, but he wouldn’t be able to cope if something had happened to his younger brother.

  Someone knew about the tunnel and that someone had to be Gatslian. He listened for any kind of noise before he lowered himself into the opening. Once he dropped, he’d be exposed. He should wait for reinforcements, but too many things could happen in twenty minutes.

  After he pressed the hidden lever that caused the wall to open, he removed the locking mechanism. He wasn’t going to let anyone or anything trap him inside.

  Cautiously, he maneuvered himself through the narrow opening. “Ahkkk. What the…”

  He felt an intense pain in his skull. Someone hit him. Who?

  He tried to turn, to see, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. The black tunnel became even blacker.

  * * * *

  The blackness no longer frightened her—it engulfed her like a lover. Subena welcomed the night. She knew she acted like a coward, but she succumbed to the hypnotic spell of death.

  She tried to breathe life back into her lungs. She needed to find Ronan.