“Maybe not.” He cleared his throat and looked into the palms of his empty hands.
“Kyle,” I leaned against the statue beside him. “Empty king and crazy cultish servants or not, we're going to get out of here, we're going to find Rune, and we're going to get back to Breakwater.”
“How?”
I thought for a moment, drumming my hands on my knees. “That woman had keys on her belt. I'm sure they unlock these doors.”
“If any of those doors led out of here, do you really think these people would stay here and starve to death? They've been here for a long, long time. If there was a way out, they would have found it.”
“You have your tools, don't you? You could pick the locks and we could see for ourselves.”
“Those people are staying in here for a reason. We could be walking into an even worse situation out there.”
I sighed through my nose. “You don't know that.”
Kyle didn't say anything.
If our positions were reversed, he wouldn't enable my attitude, so I wouldn't enable his. “You can sit here and sulk if you want, but I'm going to find a way out of here.”
It was a good thing that I got up when I did. I'd wanted to grab him by the collar and cuff him. When we'd climbed out of the pool, he'd been the one to calm me down, and now he was going to pieces. The swing between emotions was more than I could handle. I stalked off down the hall and took my light with me. Didn't he bother to think that maybe I was struggling to hold it all together for the both of us? Hadn't I just lost Rune?
I had to move forward, only forward. I couldn't let my emotions get the better of me.
What had happened? The question repeated again and again. Why had Lord Headly spoken as though he would consider our plea, then change his mind so suddenly? What had he seen in us that made him so afraid? Was it because we were Lodestones? Was it because of my scar? He certainly wasn't the first to look at me strangely since I allowed the mark to show.
Please, Rune. Please be okay.
I concentrated on finding him, and my steps led me back to the aquamarine pool. Blue light poured over me as I stared at the smooth, still surface. He was still alive. The Pull wouldn't have guided me anywhere at all if he were dead. That gave me hope.
Hours passed, but I didn't waste them. I attempted to open the sealed hatch of the aquamarine pool. I paced the length of the hall several times, and even returned to the throne room. A single stump of a candle had been lit upon the dais, granting a soft bit of yellow light. The king's protectors fawned over his hollow body, wiping his skin with sponges, and ladling broth into his mouth like they would an invalid. I was sad for him and wondered what he'd been like in life.
When I returned to the statue where Kyle had been sitting, he was gone. I scarcely needed to use the Pull to find him. There were long footprints smudged in the dust, leading away to the maze of stairs and doors. I shouldn't have left him alone in the dark. The Gateling was gone, but I didn't trust the shadows with any of my friends. It was too perfect a camouflage for Raserion's creations.
I should have been more patient with him. It pained me to picture him alone, groping blindly across the hall.
Raising my hand, I pooled my electricity into the shape of a swirling, pear-sized oval, and made it hover just behind my right shoulder. Taking in a deep breath, I could feel the extension of myself moving independently of my body. So far, creating shapes had only been a matter of practice. Allowing one to float without touching me required a little more focus, but I could do it. My breath quickened with the exertion at first, but in a few minutes I became accustomed to the strain.
Kyle's footprints took me up a flight of stairs that led directly to one of the chained doors. It was open and the loose chains were pooled on the floor beside the discarded lock. Kyle's ghostly face hovered a few paces within. He must have used his tools to open it after all.
“Kat,” he said urgently, seeming unsurprised that I'd found him. “There's something you need to see.”
“What is it?” I asked, wondering if I should be concerned.
“We're not in the North.”
Chapter 36: A Warm Welcome
It hadn't been an exaggeration. Kyle was right. We couldn't possibly be in the North. The gaping door led to a curving stair. I could hear the sound of rushing water nearby and it intensified with every step we took. The passage led to a landing with broad, clear paneled windows. Crystalline mosaic bordered the frame of the arching portal.
A great, old, golden clock with an open casing was embedded in the left wall. All of its inner workings were exposed, and though the short hand was stuck, twitching at twenty minutes, the sliver-thin seconds arm was still rotating steadily. The hour pointed to five, and I wondered if it was at least partly accurate. All around were golden chairs with the same fine and delicate design as the clock. Like everything else, they were cushioned with dust and laced with spider webs, but the mark of their fine craftsmanship had not deteriorated over the ages.
All of the chairs were turned to face the window, like an audience of spirits had gathered to attend the view. I let the light that I'd created fade to a dim glow. We wouldn't need it much longer. Away, out the window, dawn was beginning to gather, and what it showed us was more breathtaking than I could have imagined. The sound of the water roared here, and it was immediately apparent why.
Just outside the window, two waterfalls cascaded down like sheets, as though their source was this very palace. Droplets spattered on the edges of the window and made it seem as though it was only raining at the edges of the sky. The view swept away before us, running first over the sloping attachments of the palace, then the many-colored rooftops of other grand structures, and finally, the sands of a great desert in the distance. We must have been hundreds of feet up, because I could see an entire city below us, and none of it looked to be slight. Spiny palm trees rose in clusters from the far away ground, and green foliage gathered around reflective waterways that snaked between buildings.
It was different from any place I'd ever seen. There were no rambling golden hills like the Reedy Coast, no rocky green cliff sides like Sheer Town, no marshy fields like Caraway. I couldn't even see the ocean.
The upper sky sighed with soft shades of pink and blue, and the first rays of sunlight broke free of the desert horizon, flowing over the sands. The lower sky burned with gold, throwing shadows back from their resting places, and raced for the edges of the city. Light tumbled over the buildings, brightening the colored rooftops, shining on waterways, and deepening the green of the palms. We stood still, transfixed by the transformation below us.
In the light, I could see that many of the roofs below had collapsed inward, and some of the buildings were crumbling to the core of their foundations. One edge of the city was buried up to its doorways by encroaching sand. The city was the most magnificent feat of humanity that I'd ever seen, and it lay in ruins. I opened my mouth to say as much.
The dawn light reached the foot of the palace, and the old clock fixed to the wall began to chime loudly. The sound of the bells resounded through my core and I jumped. Old and half broken, the clock sang at the touch of dawn, and I had a feeling this room had been designed for the very event we'd just witnessed.
Staring out at the fallen city, I was utterly and completely lost. “Where are we?”
“Whiterock City,” General Deadheart said from the stairway behind us. “The first city, the resurrection, the forgotten pride of the fallen East, capital of the unified Kingdom of Lastland.”
Chapter 37: Deadheart
I was on him before I could restrain myself. General Deadheart's predatory eyes flashed wide, and a hand reached for the swords at his hip, but I was faster than him– lightning was faster than him. It cracked out from my hand, and I used the extension to slam him against the wall. The clock chimed again.
The thick strands of his ropey white hair tumbled over his face as he slumped to the ground. The man was all muscle and armor,
and if it weren't for the Spark, I wouldn't have stood a chance against him. I'd been careful in my attack, making certain that my lightning gripped his armor without penetrating his body too deeply. We needed him alive and I wouldn't risk injuring him greatly.
Kyle jumped out of the way, after the fact. “Gravity! Where did he come from?”
I couldn't hear Kyle. My ears were ringing with rage and purpose. Lashing my arms out at my sides, I summoned a burst of electricity, coating my torso in electric armor. “Too slow, General Deadheart. Now, I'm going to give you one chance to tell me where my other friend is, or by gravity, I will send you out that window.” I came in to stand close above him, my hot lightning snapping over me. “One chance. Now what will it be?”
Kyle skirted around me and ran a nervous hand through his curls. The scarred general coughed into his fist, rattled his head, and blinked his eyes. “M–my n–name... ungh... is General Deasun. Vance D–Deasun.”
“I don't care what your name is,” I said, through clenched teeth. Flashes of Rune suffering bore into my mind, and I dug my nails into my palms until the hurt distracted me. “You're going to get us out of here, now, and you're going to get Rune back.”
“I–I'm not here to fight you,” the man said, struggling to his feet. Silvery scars rent his dark skin, cutting over the edges of his mouth. “I need you both to come with me, we don't have much time.”
“Where?” Kyle asked, suspiciously.
“Away from here. Somewhere safe.” His back slid up the wall and he braced himself as he regained balance. I'd hit him hard. He deserved worse. “I know how this must look, but I am not your enemy.”
“We came to you for help. The survival of an entire city depends on us, and you had us beaten and thrown away! You took Rune! Forgive me if I don't bat my lashes and curtsey.”
“It wasn't my doing, girl! If you'd only listen!” the General barked. “That murdering bastard, Lord Headly, controls everything. A thousand hells, I knew things were bad, but this? You must come with me now, before my men are discovered.”
Kyle stepped up beside me. “Bring us our friend, and we'll go with you.”
“As soon as we leave this place, I will send for the Dragoon. The young lord as well. I swear it.” He raised a hand to the metal plate embedded in his chest. It was lucky I hadn't struck him there, or we might be locked in here with a corpse.
This was bad. “You took Dylan?”
“You travel with a Dragoon and an enemy lord. Did you really expect me to trust them?” he snarled.
“It's not that simple. They aren't spies, they wouldn't have hurt you if you didn't attack us first,” I told him fiercely.
“Ah. Now you understand my perspective in this. If you'd like to kill me, make your attempt now, but allow me to warn you: I will not die.”
“What?” Kyle asked sharply.
The General stared my friend dead in the face. “Prince Varion resurrected me from death. My life force is linked to his own. As of yet, I am immortal.”
I laughed, but there was no humor behind it. “You're not kidding.”
He looked at me, stone-faced.
“What–?” I began to ask, but the general cut me off.
“There will be time for answers and many more questions once we're free. Please, follow me and be quick about it.” Deasun shoved off of the wall, wrapping a thick arm around his middle, and made his way down the stairs.
I looked at Kyle, hoping for advice.
“I think we should trust him,” he said. “What other choice do we have?”
* * *
General Vance Deasun escorted us personally from the cavernous confines of Whiterock palace through the aquamarine pool and out the other side. Burly as he was, the man wasn't especially tall. That didn't stop him from taking quick, long strides through the dark-wood side passages. We were in the Keep of Caraway again, far away in the North. The properties of the dry water were remarkable. Was there any limitation to the distances that they could link?
I was glad to be back in a region that I had physically traversed. It'd been unsettling to be separated from Carmine, the Flying Fish, and any hope of returning to the West.
A squadron of Hussars and infantry soldiers marched on either side of me and Kyle, and I wondered whether they were meant to protect us, or keep us hostage. The Hussar with the long, braided cinnamon hair smiled over her shoulder at me. I glared back. She'd been the one to hit me. Walking behind her, I got a close enough look at her to see that she wasn't particularly young. Late thirties, early forties, and strong. Good. I wouldn't feel guilty for shocking her in the face. Not that I had the opportunity.
Deasun quickly brought us to a hall without windows or doors. Electric lamps buzzed in their metal cages as though they'd been agitated. Knocking five times in different regions of the wood-paneled walls, a door swung silently open before the General.
“In.” He motioned us forward, and stood watch. “Hurry. Hussar Prie, go make certain the prisoners are nearly here.” The cinnamon-haired Hussar nodded in response. “Roster and Dahl, you go too. The rest of you return to your posts. Signal me the moment Headly makes a move.”
“Yes, sir,” they repeated and moved swiftly out of the passage.
We ducked into the secret room, and even with all we'd been through, Kyle stopped to study the door's mechanisms. When Deasun closed the passage behind us, lights flickered on above. The room was round, with scratched copper paneling and old red wallpaper. The wooden floor was inlaid with spangles of copper, brass, and iron. There were wooden tables, chairs and cabinets, studded with metal, but none were nearly as beautiful as what we'd seen in Whiterock City. This was a meeting room. It had to be.
There was scarcely enough time to scan our surroundings for danger when the lamps flickered and went out. The door swept open again, and backlit by the hall, I could see a group of people stumble into the room with us. The door swung closed, and the lights groaned and burned back to life.
A group of Hussars had joined us, with Prie in the lead, and two bodies were crumpled on the floor with their hands tied, and black cloth bags over their heads.
“Rune!” I shot across the room faster than I thought possible, and skidded down on my knees beside him, unconcerned about the pain it might have caused me. Even with his head covered, I knew the shape of his body through his clothes, the curve of his back, the slope of his shoulders, everything. I wedged myself against him, trying to prop him up. His dead weight was too heavy for me to hold on my own. The body beside him groaned and twitched. A slick strand of blonde hair hung from beneath the bag. “Dylan! Hold on. It's going to be okay.”
I fumbled at the bag, unlacing the fastenings that held it in place, and pulled it from Rune's head. He was alive. Dried blood coated half of his upper lip where it had run from his broken nose. The flesh around one of his eyes was purple and swollen. Battered as he was, I ran a hand across his cheek and wondered if I'd ever seen someone so beautiful in my life. He was alive.
Thank you.
Dylan was moving, trying to sit up. I crawled carefully around Rune and removed Dylan's hood with shaking fingers. “It's okay, it's me,” I whispered to him.
“Katelyn?” he said my name in a thick, bleary voice. “What happened?”
“We were separated, but we're here now,” I said softly.
Dylan blinked hard and I could see some clarity returning to him. He looked up, searching for someone. “W–Where is the bloody bastard? There! You! Chest-plate! Are you satisfied? Katelyn, let go of me!” He pulled away from me and staggered to his feet. Both arms were still fastened behind his back. His fine clothes were smeared with dirt and grime. “I thought they'd come for me as part of our bargain. I thought I must submit for Breakwater and offer myself as a hostage of noble intent. When they came to the Flying Fish, I left willingly.” He spat onto the floor and glared at General Deasun. “They brought me to a dungeon and stabbed me with needles before I could react. Is that your idea of a diplomatic
greeting? My brother could die because of you!”
Dylan faced the cinnamon-haired Hussar who'd hit me. She brandished her blade and turned it upon her own stomach. The woman yelped as the knife point pressed against the middle of her leather armor. Dylan had Commanded her to do it with a simple thought.
“Commander!” she cried out in panic.
The few other Hussars in the room leveled their spears at Dylan.
“Stop!” Deasun's eyes flashed wide. He stared at Dylan in a new light. “Lord Axton, please. Release her.”
“You... you mean that you didn't know?” Dylan stammered.
Deasun ground his teeth. “No, we did not. I have never heard of a Westerner being a Lord and a Commander both and I removed you from Headly's power before you could be searched.” The general held out his hand in placation. “Release my soldier, Lord-Commander. I will not make excuses for my shortcomings, but do not punish my men. It was not my order that placed you under arrest, but Headly's. You are among you a Dragoon and a Lord of Breakwater. I ordered you to be sedated for your own safety. Headly's men could not question you if you were not conscious, and neither would they kill you. It was for your own protection. You have my most sincere apologies,” the general said. “The Dragoon's injuries are the same that he suffered in defense of the girl. I would not allow any harm to come to any of your company until we had the chance to speak.”
Rune was only sedated then. He was going to be okay. I pressed my hands into his shoulder, attempting to awaken him. He didn't so much as twitch in response. “Come on,” I whispered. “Open your eyes!” Nothing.
Kyle cocked his head. The corners of his mouth and the thickest part of his brows angled downward. I could feel the anger radiating off of him. “Do you really think an apology will make up for what you've done to our friends? We came here in peace, and look what you've done to him!” After all of his fear, he'd hit some sort of a breaking point. Kyle stalked up to face the General. “Where is Carmine Rousseau? Where's our pilot?” Kyle shoved the general with both hands, and Deasun, a perfectly honed and seasoned warrior, let him do it. All of the Hussars in the room stood by. No one defended the general.
Monarch (War of the Princes Book 3) Page 22
