Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1)

by Nicholas Andrews

  Kerin’s men saluted and melted back into the forest. “That should do it,” he told them.

  “Thank you, Captain,” Nerris said.

  Kerin shrugged. “Protecting the Stonechaser is paramount. I hope to rejoin you in Lesta soon, Nerris. I am sure you and his Highness have much to discuss.” The attendant arrived with Kerin’s horse, and he mounted up, galloping into the trees with his men.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  MEN IN ARMOR cowered and stepped over their own cloaks to get away from the seething Aeterna. Qabala had just learned of the Thrillseekers’ escape from the commander of the City Watch, and thrown the officer across the room with strength unnatural to her lithe form. That would have been horrible enough, but her touch had also lit the man on fire.

  The other guards in the great hall fidgeted at the commander’s screams as their queen paced back and forth. No doubt they wanted to run, but were afraid to turn their backs. Qabala pondered how this could happen. She had taken great care to surround herself with the elite, and not only had Nerris gotten away, he had taken his friends, the Stonechaser, the woodwitch, and Jinn’s medallion with him. Even now they were speeding toward Prince Lahnel’s territory, where she could not reach them.

  If Dume Yorne or Dume Valez had been here, things might have been different. Those men were born commanders, and adapted at a moment’s notice. However, she had sent them to the southwest four days past, on the word that a force of Prince Lahnel’s men were massing near Hesmuth. That left her with two Dume-Generals when ten hells had broken loose.

  Falares had been in the Fury Pit with her, and proved useless in stopping Nerris. Dume Quin had been a bit more resourceful, and gathered some of the men under his direct command to pursue the Thrillseekers. However, he had left with too few and had not reported back yet. If you wanted to catch the Thrillseekers, you took an army, not a squad.

  Dume Lukas had been killed in the riot, she learned. He had been knocked off his feet, and his helm removed. One of the prisoners proceeded to rip a rusted iron bar from one of the group cells and impale the former informant through the eye.

  The human bonfire in front of her blazed on, though the commander’s screams had stopped, replaced in the air with the stench of burning flesh and melting iron. The commander’s body hissed and popped as it cooked, bringing nauseated looks to the faces of the men present. The flames of her fury were searing, it would seem.

  The doors to the great hall opened, and a dusty-looking Dume Quin entered, helm tucked under his arm. He bowed to Qabala after noticing the burning commander to his right.

  “Never mind that,” Qabala said. “What have you to report, your Constancy?”

  “We cornered the Thrillseekers, but were ambushed,” Quin said. “The same foresters who have been harrowing our returning troops since we took the city. They overwhelmed my men and we were forced to retreat. I don’t know how, but they knew the Stonechaser was coming. One of my wounded was left alive, and he confirmed this force works for Prince Lahnel. They were under the command of a Captain Kerin, and had been stationed there to collect the Nateus once he had acquired the Stonechaser and the Catalyst.”

  “Your sabres could not handle a small force of militiamen and commoners?”

  “I was only able to rouse two score men on such short notice,” Quin said. “Any longer and we would have lost the Thrillseekers to the forest. And Kerin’s forces seem to have grown since they last attacked us.”

  Qabala had to turn away for a moment. This was all on that damned woodwitch. She should have realized last autumn that a Nateus would never allow himself to be caught so easily. He knew where Len-Ahl would be, and had positioned himself to receive her. When next she saw him, he would burn as well, but the fire would be hotter and he would live much longer to suffer it.

  Falares took a tentative step forward. “My Eternal, what is your will?” he asked.

  Qabala rubbed at her eyes. “My will, Falares? Could I but will it, I would will into existence an army of supporters that could keep five prisoners in the dungeon. I would will that my powers had been awakened before this incident so I could have prevented it myself. I would will that Nerris did not despise me so, that I did not concede to bestow generalship on lickspittles and incompetents, but most of all, it is my will that all of you get out of my way right now!”

  Falares, Quin, and the guards parted as if she carried the plague. Qabala stormed from the great hall, where she had thought gathering her most important officers would help think of some solution to the situation, but had enraged her even more. She told herself if she wanted to salvage anything, obliterating her officers would not help.

  The south courtyard still looked as if a tornado had rampaged through. Smashed stone and trampled bushes littered the cobblestone paths. The prisoners had gotten that far before the Aeternica’s guards had converged on them in full force, driving them back and beating them down until they surrendered. Slaves were still cleaning up the blood as she passed by.

  She arrived in her quarters and immediately took to the balcony, gazing down on her fair city, where the sun now dipped below the horizon and the brightest stars appeared in the violet sky. There was no denying it; the Thrillseekers had gotten one over on her. That was why she wanted them held in separate quarters. They were too dangerous to be allowed to plan and scheme. She had heard the stories; been intimately involved with one of them. Yet her network of incompetents could not even achieve that much.

  Her anger had gotten the better of her. Her hatred for the girl Len-Ahl provoked them into action, and they had let loose every occupant of the dungeon to cover their escape. She had not been on hand to lead her men against the prisoners, for she had been trapped in a cell courtesy of Nerris Palada.

  Once Nerris had left the Fury Pit, she seethed and raged for nearly a quarter of an hour. Falares had tried to help her once he made it to his feet, but Nerris had severed the chain which connected her cell door to the windlass, and the portcullis was too heavy for Falares to lift by himself.

  At that point, all the anger and rage Qabala had felt since learning of the liaison between Nerris and Len-Ahl welded into a cold focus. She felt the Doom Rock stir within her, felt the power course through her body and let out a scream which almost gutted the Fury Pit’s torches. The portcullis flew across the room and crashed to the floor, bent beyond recognition. Falares stared at her with a mixture of awe and fear on his face.

  The riot had been quelled by the time she arrived, and what a cost that quarter of an hour had taken. Dume Lukas and many guards, killed. Important hostages were also dead, Lord Petaka Bosmick amongst them. Now his son had no reason to hold back his forces, and was free to join with Prince Lahnel.

  She slumped on the balustrade. The power of the Doom Rock continued to course through her, and she knew she had achieved the unity she hoped for. But what use was it? She was alone now, and her chances of finding the Elemental Stone dashed.

  “That is a face I have not seen for quite some time,” said the voice of the Tattered Man. “Not since you were a small child have I gazed upon a look of such hopelessness.”

  Qabala gritted her teeth. “Leave me alone, Pale One. You are the last... person... I want to see right now.” He was not a person, and she could not see him, but she hoped he would take the hint.

  “I have done nothing but...”

  “Exactly,” Qabala said. “You did nothing while Nerris escaped. Where were you? Where was your cult?”

  “I recall you sent the Cult of Eversor from the city some weeks ago at the behest of Dume Yorne and your beloved Nerris. They cannot help you if they are not here.”

  “They were getting out of hand,” Qabala said. “Terror was never my intention when I took the throne.”

  “Every ruler needs a bit of terror. If your people always see you on the street handing out food to starving children, they eventually see you as weak. Had I been allowed free reign, were I not confined by the sacrifices of Angelica, the Thrillseek
ers would have known true terror.”

  “I know better than that,” Qabala said. “You didn’t interfere because you never liked the idea of me and Nerris together. Don’t deny you wanted this.”

  “He was an unwelcome distraction from your destiny.”

  Qabala sighed. “I am tired of destiny, and prophecies and all that cryptic nonsense. Nerris was the only destiny I ever needed.”

  “All he did was betray you.”

  “He loved me.”

  “Precisely. Love and betrayal are two sides of one of those coins you humans prize so much. You say you want the power to fix this world. To do that, you need to become one with the Fatexion, to use its power to make the world as you see fit.”

  “Your point?”

  “I watched you struggle endlessly with the stone, your thoughts always returning to one man, his face foremost in your mind’s eye. Tell me, without his betrayal, without the anger and hatred that came with it, do you think you would have ever awakened the way you did in that cell?”

  “You’re saying anger and hatred are the children of power,” Qabala said.

  “I see you are finally learning. You may realize your potential yet.”

  “I thought I was to be the Stonechaser, the one who reunited the Fatexion and the Exemplus. If this girl finds the Elemental Stone—”

  “Your mastery of the Fatexion will destroy her, for one such as her can never focus power as you will.”

  “Still, I cannot risk it,” Qabala said. “The Stonechaser Prophecy must be broken.”

  “Then I surmise a journey lies in front of you.”

  “You mean follow them, and take the stone?” Qabala asked. “How? Wherever they go will be from the port of Lesta, and I cannot follow them there.”

  “Your army cannot go there, but you can. Take whatever companions you deem necessary, but endeavor to keep your cortege small. Whoever has the desire can join the journey, but the Law of Eight must be upheld if you are to find the Exemplus.”

  “Abandon my people? I am their leader, Pale One!”

  “Surely there are others who would command just as well in your absence.”

  He was right, she realized. Dume Yorne or Dume Valez both made for brilliant generals. She would take Dume Yorne with her, though. In spite of his loyalty to Nerris, she felt a certain attachment to the old man, one which could prove important. But who else?

  “Thank you, Pale One,” she said. “We may be at odds at times, but you have always been there to afford me wise counsel. I shall do as you suggest. After all, I have no ties to Nerris anymore. I severed those for good when I nearly whipped that innocent girl of his to death.”

  “If hatred is the child of power, gratitude is the scion of weakness,” the Tattered Man said. “The emergence of Eversor is all the thanks I will require.” At that, his presence was gone, though his words still echoed in her mind.

  “You’re welcome,” Qabala muttered.

  “My Eternal?”

  Qabala whipped her head around. Meeka stood in the room behind her, half hidden by the curtains.

  “Who were you speaking to?” the slave girl asked.

  Qabala turned to face her. “No one. Meeka, send word to the grooms to prepare my horse. I’ll also need a packhorse and supplies for a trip. Pots, pans, foodstuffs, shelters, and the like. Then get word to Falares and Quin that I need to see them. I mean to begin as soon as Yorne and Valez return from Hesmuth.”

  “Are you going somewhere, my Eternal?” Meeka asked.

  Qabala nodded. “The most important journey I’ll ever take. And you will attend me. How would you like to see the rest of Tormalia, Meeka?”

  “If that is your will, my Eternal.”

  “It is,” Qabala said. “You’ll be happy to know your friend Nerris has fled me. We will be going after him and his friends, and they will all suffer dearly for what they have wrought.” Meeka did well in covering up her gladness. The look she wore was stricken at the news of Nerris’s escape. “How does that make you feel, Meeka, to know when I next meet Nerris, I will kill him? That you will be a party to it?”

  Meeka’s eyes became watery. “I... don’t... he betrayed you, my Eternal. Spurned your love. Left us... you. I know what has to happen will come to pass.”

  Qabala nodded. “You may go.”

  Her slave practically fled the room, and Qabala stared out over Palehorse, a warm breeze blowing through her hair. Spring was giving way to summer, and she could tell this season would be a hot one. The entire world would heat up until it reached a boil, right at the moment she lay her hands on the Elemental Stone. With the help of Eversor, she would show the world a torrent the likes it had never seen. Only then, after the storm, could she finally make it right.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  THE NIGHTMARES HAD returned. Visions of the past and what lay in store, alternate histories and possible futures, roiled in her mind like an angry storm. Every time she glimpsed the face of the man she loved and reached out to him, he dissolved back into the fog. In his place stood a young woman with cold, jade eyes. She reached for Len-Ahl with bloody hands, and the faermaid of the Great Oak Forest repulsed at her touch, only for the blood to fade away.

  A black cloud enveloped her, and Len-Ahl struggled against the darkness. She saw the face of the Tattered Man and screamed for him to leave her alone, and his robes flared out, taking her to the next vision. In this one, she held a light green stone in her hand. Qabala stood across from her, a dark violet rock in hers. Between them lay an unmarked grave.

  “You did this,” the Aeterna accused her. “It didn’t have to be this way, Len-Ahl.”

  She shook her head. “No, this is destiny. I cannot change it.”

  “But you can prevent it. You know how.”

  Qabala held the Doom Rock away from her, and a purple beam emitted from it, striking Len-Ahl’s eyes. All sight and shape were lost, but the voices of everyone she knew seemed to be talking at once. She could not make out any one statement, but she understood all of them as they raged at her in a single, terrible voice.

  When it seemed like she might go mad, a blinding light pierced her dreams, enveloping her, warming her. The light grew until it filled her vision and a calm settled over her. Something was different, and it took a few moments for Len-Ahl to realize what it was. She was awake.

  Slowly, the light dimmed and her surroundings came into focus. The room was quiet and well-lit, sunlight pouring in through open windows. She lay on her stomach in a bed with fresh, white linens which smelled of flowers. Her head rested on a soft pillow, but the comfort she felt did not matter. Only the smiling man who sat in a chair next to her, holding her hand, his hazel eyes gazing into hers.

  “Nerris,” she said, her voice coming out small and croaky. She tried to rise and embrace him, but pain lanced through her body. She winced and dropped back to the bed.

  “Stay still, Len-Ahl,” Nerris said. “You’re badly hurt.”

  Len-Ahl recalled those brutal few minutes in the Fury Pit, as Queen Qabala whipped the life from her body with a vile weapon of torture. However, she could remember nothing after that. It seemed like a distant nightmare now, though the pain she felt told her it had been a waking one.

  “How can this be?” she asked. Her throat hurt when she spoke, and she dared not speak above a whisper. “Where are we?”

  “The port of Lesta,” Nerris said. “Guest quarters in Y’Ghan Palace to be exact, home of Prince Lahnel.”

  Many possibilities dance through Len-Ahl’s mind. Had they escaped Qabala, or had the Aeterna conquered Lesta? Was this another dream to torture her even more with false hope? As she wondered, she gazed past Nerris and noticed others in the room. Dist and Jhareth stood behind Nerris, giving her glad smiles. Off to the side, an older man rose. He wore a brown robe and carried a wooden staff.

  The unknown man cleared his throat. “Maybe I should explain what has happened.”

  “Certainly, Nateus,” Nerris said. “I probably c
ouldn’t keep it all straight anyway.” He gave Len-Ahl’s hand a squeeze and stood.

  The man called Nateus took his seat, but Len-Ahl did not know how this could be. Nateus was the title given to the leaders of those who gave their devotion to Angelica and her kings, humans who lived within the faery realm, each giving themselves to an order of one of the four physical elements. But those orders were all gone, were they not?

  The balding man looked at her. “Len-Ahl, my name is Surnal. I am the Nateus of the Earth Clerics, or the woodwitches if you prefer.”

  Len-Ahl was dumbstruck. “That cannot be.”

  “I know most think us extinct,” Surnal said, “but from what Nerris tells me, you possess abilities inherent to those who devote themselves to Paral. Windwitches, flamewitches, and waterwitches all remain in this world, but are scattered, orderless. In truth, the Earth Clerics were the last brotherhood to remain in Tormalia, until Qabala’s rise to power. Now but few remain in all of Yagolhan. She has had most of us hunted and killed.”

  “Why would she do such a thing?” Len-Ahl asked.

  Surnal shrugged. “Why does a tyrant abuse her power? There are rumors of an unsavory acquaintance from her childhood who happened to be a woodwitch, but I will not trouble you with sordid hearsay. Most likely it is because she has joined in arms with the Tattered Man, and he realized our order was a threat to him.”

  “You know of the Tattered Man?”

  “I know many things,” Surnal said. “I know you are the Stonechaser, and I know Nerris is the Catalyst. And I know of the journey you face, as well as the meaning of the runes on the medallion of Jinn you found. Can you read the Xenean language, Len-Ahl?”

  “I can,” she said. “I had not yet had the chance to think on the medallion’s words before we were taken.” She looked at Nerris. “I am so sorry for what I caused. I knew what would happen, and I led you into it. All this hardship his my fault.”