by Aaron Hodges
Shouts came from around them and the steel doors at the end of the yard burst open. Guards appeared, spears held at the ready. They charged across the slippery grass, voices raised against the intruders. Steel armour rattled beneath their woollen cloaks.
Eric made no move to run. He would not get two steps carrying Enala’s dead weight. Even so, only their obvious distress stopped the guards from killing them on the spot. Eric stood helpless with Enala in his arms and waited as the guards surrounded them, spear points bristling.
A man barked orders and the guards closed ranks, cutting off any chance of escape. Then the man stepped towards them.
“Who are you? How did you get into the citadel?” he demanded.
“We’re friends,” Eric’s voice shook with the cold. “I can explain everything, but you have to help her. She’s been stabbed. If she doesn’t get to a healer soon, she’ll die.”
The man hesitated, his eyes taking in the blood seeping from Enala’s cloak, already staining the snow beneath them. The truth of Eric’s words was clear for all to see.
“Please,” Eric whispered. “She’s important. You cannot let her die.”
The leader took a deep breath, then nodded. He barked out a string of orders. Two men lowered their spears and approached Eric. Two others joined them, their spears aimed in his direction. Eric reluctantly allowed them to take Enala’s weight. Carrying her between them, the men retreated from the circle and disappeared through the steel doors.
“Thank you,” Eric croaked to the leader.
The man nodded. “Explain yourself.”
Rubbing his arms to ward off the cold, Eric gave a quick summary of who they were and how they had come to be there. The soldiers stared back, eyes hard and unforgiving. With their woollen cloaks, the cold did not seem to affect them. Eric could read the scepticism in their eyes, and doubted they believed a word of his tale.
When he finished he spread his hands. “Do what you want with me, just make sure Enala survives.”
The leader stared at him, eyes unreadable. At last he nodded. “The council did receive word from Jurrien some time ago about a company who would bring a girl to us. No doubt the council would like to be the ones to judge the truth of your tale. They do not convene until morning.”
Eric nodded. His teeth began to chatter and to his surprise the man laughed. “Until your story is verified, we cannot trust you. But let it not be said we Trolan’s do not know how to treat a guest.”
He retrieved a pair of iron cuffs from his cloak and tossed them to Eric. “Put those on, and we will show you to someplace warmer where you can wait out the morning.”
The cuffs must have been deep within his cloak, because the metal still felt warm. Shivering, Eric locked them about his wrists and nodded to the guard.
The man gave a short smile and waved Eric towards the doors. “Follow me.”
*************
Shame welled up in Laurel’s chest as she watched Enala’s healing. An hour had already passed, the air crackling with the magic of the three healers. Light flowed from their hands to wrap Enala in a blanket of power. It seeped into her skin, seeking out the injuries within. But healing did not come without cost; Laurel knew that from experience.
Enala had spent the last hour writhing in agony. Her shrieks would have sent grown men reeling, and only the strength of two guards had been able to hold her in place. Sweat beaded her pale face and her blond hair hung dull and limp. The copper lock burned a bright red, hinting at the power locked within. But Laurel kept a tight hold on Enala’s magic, ensuring the Magickers could work in safety.
Laurel listened, unseen, to the whispers of the healers. They were worried the magic might not take, that Enala would not survive the night. Laurel smiled at their concern; they did not know this girl like she did. If she could survive the horrors of that creature, she would survive this.
It took another hour before the worst had passed. Her skin slowly regained its colour, a healthy pink returning to her cheeks. The shrieks started to subside as Enala settled into sleep, a gentle frown replacing the scowl.
At last the healers declared her healthy. Laurel smiled, wishing she could thank them. It was clear the effort had cost them; exhaustion ringed their eyes and haggard lines were etched across their faces. Shoulders slumped but smiling in triumph, they left the room one by one.
Then Laurel was alone with Enala. Closing her eyes, she slumped into the chair beside the girl’s bed. The skeleton’s cackle rang in her mind. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself, the fear rising within her. The creature had unmanned her, her strength evaporating before its overwhelming power. When Enala fell, the last shred of her courage evaporated.
With the creature intent on Enala, Laurel had cloaked herself in magic and fled for the archway. Enala’s screams and the skeleton’s dread laughter chased after her, but she closed her ears to the girl’s plight. She sensed the surge of magic as Enala unleashed her power, but knew it would not be enough to overcome the monster.
Laurel had done what she’d always done. She had taken care of herself. She had left the girl to die.
So why do I feel so guilty? She shivered, watching Enala sleep. How did you survive? How did Eric survive? What the hell happened in there?
Laurel shook her head, still trying to come to grips with what had unfolded. When the portal dumped her in the citadel, she’d had no idea where she had escaped too. Remaining invisible, she slid through the courtyard, listening to the guards.
When she learned she was in Kalgan, she could not help but smile. It would take a long time for the Hawk to find her here.
Then the two Magickers had stepped from the portal, and all hell had broken loose.
Now Laurel found herself conflicted. When she had followed them into the portal, she’d thought to use Enala as leverage against the Trolan’s. No doubt they would pay a steep ransom for her life.
But here in the citadel, the height of Trolan power, she knew such a plan could only end in disaster. Even if the Trolan’s eventually recognised Enala and were willing to pay for her life, Laurel would stand little chance of escaping with her ransom. While she possessed a few unique abilities, she was not powerful. The Battle Magickers of Trola would hunt her down within hours.
Nor could Laurel ignore the shift in position between herself and Enala. They had stood together against the cursed skeleton, fought side by side to survive its relentless attack. Enala’s bravery had saved Laurel a dozen times in the short minutes of the battle.
In return, Laurel had left the girl to die.
Taking a deep breath, Laurel released her magic and reached out to touch the sleeping girl.
Enala’s eyelids fluttered and a low crackle came from her throat. Then her sapphire eyes opened and looked up at Laurel. She did not miss the suspicious glint in their murky depths.
“What are you doing here?” she croaked.
Laurel bowed her head. “I followed you from Chole. I thought it might be the best way to escape the Baronian thugs hunting me. I… I’m sorry I ran when it stabbed you.”
Enala’s mouth twisted in a frown. “You… yes, you vanished,” she shook her head. “No, I should be thanking you. You were the one who gave me a fighting chance in the first place.”
“The creature made it clear the only way either of us would survive was to work together… I should not have abandoned you.”
Enala smiled. “There was nothing more you could have done. As you say, we only stood a chance if we stood together. I was finished…” she shuddered. “If not for Eric…”
“How did Eric help you? His magic should not have worked there; there was nothing of the Sky element in that world.”
“I don’t know, but somehow he summoned lightning. Combined with my fire magic, it was enough to destroy the creature.”
Laurel stared at Enala, wondering if she had dreamt the whole thing. Eric was powerful, but he was no God. He could not have created lightning from nothing.
“So,” Enala interrupted her thoughts. “What will you do now? You aren’t thinking of kidnapping us again, are you?” she looked at Laurel with humour in her eyes.
Laurel laughed, but before she could answer a knock came from outside. She wrapped herself in magic once more, vanishing from sight.
The door opened and a man with greying hair entered. His face looked haggard, with wrinkles lining his forehead and he sported a patchy beard. He wore a plain brown doublet, long black pants and a scarf wrapped around his neck. He carried a jacket over one arm and a sprinkling of snow dotted his shoulders. A sword was strapped to his waist. He carried a small pack in one hand and a thin golden crown nestled on his temple.
His pale green eyes surveyed the room, passing over the hidden Laurel and settling on Enala.
“Ahh, awake I see, and healed too! I am so glad,” the man smiled, moving to stand at Enala’s bedside. His voice was a rich bass tone. It could have come from a man twenty years his junior.
Enala stared up at him, confusion written across her face. “Who are you?”
The man gave a booming laugh. “Why, I am the king of course. And my guards tell me that you are Enala.”
The girl nodded, struggling to sit up in the bed. “Yes, I’m Enala,” she stammered. “It’s ah… an honour to meet you, your majesty?” unable to do anything else, she offered her hand.
The king laughed again and accepted the gesture. Laurel watched the exchange in silence, hardly daring to breath.
“Nice to meet you too, Enala. And you can call me Jonathan. We are family, after all.”
Enala swallowed visibly. “You know?”
Jonathan grinned. “I do. Your companion told my guards an abridged version of your story, and given your rather miraculous appearance, I at least am predisposed to believe it.”
“I see,” Enala looked lost for words. “I… I… What happens now?”
“That depends on you,” he hesitated. “How do you feel?”
Enala’s hand drifted to her stomach. Surprise flashed across her face when she found the skin whole. Laurel suppressed a shudder, remembering the gaping wound left by the skeleton’s scimitar.
Enala smiled at the king. “Looks like I’m fine.”
“Excellent!” the king clapped his hands. “In that case, we can talk. I would not have wanted to disturb your healing,” he moved across to the bedside chair and sat down. “I’m not sure whether you know much about Trola, but all is not well in my kingdom. Since my magic failed a few months ago, I have lost the faith of my council, and with them, my people.”
“What do you mean?”
“Despite our many decades of peace, the Trolan people still place a great amount of value on the strength of their leaders. When my magic failed, I became the first king to rule Trola without magic. The council saw that as a sign of weakness, saw me as a failure with no right to rule. Over the last few months they have used their power to undermine me. Today, I have little power or control over my own kingdom, other than a few men who remain faithful. The council rules in Kalgan now.”
Enala stared at the king. Laurel shifted on tired legs, closing her eyes as the silence stretched out.
“And I am not entirely sure the council still serves the Trolan people,” Jonathan whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“I believe there are some on the council who have been corrupted, who now work in the thrall of Archon.”
Laurel shivered. Ever since these two had come into her life, the whispers of Archon had been unrelenting. Even here, in the greatest city in the Three Nations, it seemed dark powers still lurked in the shadows. Not even the Trolan council was immune.
“Where are the council now?” Enala asked.
“Fortunately, you arrived late in the evening and they had already retired for the day. Word of your arrival will have spread by now, but they will not reconvene until morning. They will summon you and your friend then. Whether they will believe your story or not, I do not know.”
Enala made to get out of the bed and then hesitated, the sheets drawn up around her. She blushed, realising the healers had taken her clothes, that she was naked beneath the covers. “But they have to believe us!” she insisted. “You have no idea what we’ve been through, the sacrifices we’ve made to get here.”
“It might not matter. There has been no word from Jurrien or Antonia in weeks. They know there is a girl called Enala who is meant to wield the Sword of Light, but that does not mean they will believe you are that girl.”
“There is an easy way to test that! Let me hold the Sword. If I survive, then they’ll know they have the right girl.”
“The Sword is not here though,” the king replied, voice grim.
“What? Where is it? It’s meant to be here!”
“When I lost my powers the council had it moved to Witchcliffe Island. For safekeeping, they said. No one is allowed there. A powerful magic was cast to keep people out.”
“They must allow me to go there, to try it,” Enala argued.
“I do not think they will,” the king hesitated. “I can argue on your account, but they hold little respect for me now. It will not do much good. I think they will lock you up, at least until someone verifies your story.”
Enala’s eyes flickered to where Laurel hid. “What do we do?”
The king stood. “You can come with me. I can get you out of the citadel, take you to the island. My few remaining men have secured keys which will allow us to pass through the magic protecting the Sword. But we have to go now, before the council can stop us.”
“Are you sure?” Enala frowned. “What if they can be convinced?”
“It’s a possibility,” he paused. “But is it worth the risk? Better to ask forgiveness, than permission.”
Enala stared at the older man. Laurel held her breath, thinking over what had been said. It was a difficult decision, with both options fraught with risk. If they caught Enala attempting to escape, they would never let her near the Sword. But if they were going to lock her up anyway…
Enala finally nodded. “Okay,” she looked around. “But I have no clothes… and we need Eric.”
The king reached into his rucksack and tossed some clothing on the bed. “I hope they fit. As for your friend, I’m not sure where they are holding him. My man followed you to this room. By the time he returned to seek out your friend, guards loyal to the council had already taken him. He could be anywhere in the keep.”
“We may need his magic.”
“We may. But the keep is massive and we don’t have the time to search for him. We would be caught for sure.”
The girl took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m sure he will figure out what’s happening, somehow.”
Laurel smiled at the obvious message in Enala’s words. She nodded her silent agreement. She wondered how Eric would react to her sudden appearance.
“Good. I’ll wait outside while you get changed. Be quick!” he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.
Enala rolled out of bed and slipped into the fresh clothing. The jacket hung loosely off her small shoulders and the breaches needed a belt, but they would protect her from the icy weather outside. Laurel’s own jacket was far too thin for the Trolan climate.
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell him,” Laurel whispered. “Good luck!”
Enala grimaced in her direction. “Thank you. I think I’m going to need it.”
Nineteen
Gabriel turned to see Katya moving through the crowd of soldiers. She swung her sword as she moved, laying into the fleeing men with the flat edge of the blade. Her eyes burned, her face a mask of rage.
“Any man that abandons his post will see the noose,” she growled, and her words finally sank in. The men slowed, glancing back at the approaching dragons, as though weighing their chances.
Gabriel could not help but smile. Dragons had not been seen in the skies of Plorsea in decades – who could blame the men for panicking? Even so, he stifled
his grin. The councillor was right, this was a time of war. Plorsea could not allow the fear of cowards to cripple its army.
Beside him, Caelin stepped forward. “Do not worry, men,” his parade ground voice boomed over the clamour. He waved a hand at the approaching dragons. “Those are Gold Dragons, the last tribe allied with men. They mean us no harm; they are here to help. I spoke with them in Dragon Country, they are no threat.”
Katya cut her way through the crowd of soldiers. When she reached them, Gabriel saw her anger had not abated since their unexpected visit. “Did you bring these beasts here, Caelin? Did you know they would come?”
Caelin met her frosty stare. “No, I did not bring them here.”
“But you did not think to mention to the king that you had spoken with these creatures?”
“You will have to forgive me, it was a rather brief meeting and I had more pressing things to discuss. Perhaps if someone had allowed us another audience, I could have told you.”
Katya shook her head. “What are they doing here, unannounced?”
“You will have to ask them that yourself,” Caelin offered.
“You think we can just talk to those beasts?” Katya growled. “Those are dragons, you fool, in case you hadn’t noticed. I can’t just have them flying up to the city uninvited. Who knows what their true motives are.”
Gabriel’s stomach twisted. “What do you mean?” he interrupted. “Those are Gold Dragons – they’re our allies, friends of Enala.”
Katya turned her frosty eyes on him. “And where is this ‘Enala’ I keep hearing about? Vanished, dead for all we know. As for the alliance, there are few who even remember it exists. It is a forgotten treaty forged by a long dead king. You are both fools if you think we should allow such powerful creatures to fly right up to the city,” she waved an arm to encompass the buildings behind them. “You would entrust all those lives to an outdated piece of paper?”
Gabriel made to reply, but Inken’s elbow in his side cut him off. Simmering, he pursed his lips and bit back his response. It would not do to lose his temper now, not while the situation on the wall still hung on the edge. Air hissed from his nostrils as he breathed out and looked to Caelin.
