by Jon Monson
The buzzing of flies caught Aydiin’s attention. Byanca must have heard the noise too – she stopped at the same moment as Aydiin. Clinging tightly to her hand, Aydiin poked his head into a small room.
A corpse sat rotting, a blade pinning it in a standing position to the wall. The smell in the room was less than ideal, although the body hadn’t reached the advanced stages of decomposition. Aydiin withdrew his head from the room.
“You don’t want to look,” Aydiin whispered to Byanca. He knew there was likely little need to whisper, but it somehow felt wrong to speak loudly in the presence of such an object.
Byanca ignored his advice and poked her head into the room. Hers stayed much longer than Aydiin’s had. Finally she withdrew back into the hallway.
“That’s Venesius, my father’s personal butler,” she said, the shock evident in her voice.
They continued onward down the hall into what Aydiin assumed to be Marcino’s study with a much higher amount of fear. The room was littered with clothing and papers, unlikely to be its natural state. If Marcino had indeed escaped, he had done so in a hurry.
“We’re too late,” Byanca said, her voice wavering slightly. Her grip grew much firmer in Aydiin’s hand. In different circumstances, he would have enjoyed that very much.
“We’ll find him,” Aydiin said. “The Order can’t hide from us forever.”
“Mother and Cael – I have no idea what happened to them,” Byanca continued, her eyes scanning the room. “I’m alone.”
“You have me,” Aydiin said. “A perfectly flawed husband. We’ll find them.”
A scream sounded from below. It was the sound of pain and agony from a poor human being. It was the sound of imminent death.
Byanca turned to Aydiin, eyes wide. Wordlessly, she slipped her hand from his and ran out of the room. Her footsteps pounded in the hallway.
That woman never lets fear stop her from anything, Aydiin thought as he ran after her. That, of course, was a good thing. He admired it. Yet at this moment, all he wanted to do was run the opposite direction of that scream.
She took them through the hallways, past paintings that had been knocked to the floor. Pieces of smashed furniture and scattered linen closets were not uncommon. Yet the palace still seemed relatively untouched.
Byanca stopped at one of the many entrances to the Grand Hall. Creeping in slowly, Aydiin followed his beautiful yet slightly crazy wife. He realized he would follow her anywhere.
The doorway led to a small balcony where guests could normally escape the hustle and bustle of the party below. Through a set of wooden railings, Aydiin could see the entirety of the Hall. His mouth opened in shock.
A mass of violet and black robes stood in the very center of the dance floor. With hoods drawn, Aydiin couldn’t make out a single face. Yet they all stood, packed into a very small space.
In the middle of the group stood Marcino. His face was swollen with bruises and a gag covered his mouth. His hands were bound with rough looking chords. Based on the look in his eyes, the recent days had not been filled with spa treatments at the hands of his captors.
On the perimeter of the group, a black robed figure moaned as he dragged something along the ground. Whatever he held, it was drawing a circle around the other robed figures. As the man completed the circle, he stood and straightened his back.
The man’s hood was down, revealing a pale complexion. Sweat covered the man’s entire head, as if he had just run a league in the Salatian sun. Then Aydiin saw it.
The man’s hand was missing, only a bloody stump emerged from his robes. That circle was drawn in the man’s own blood. Could the scream that brought them here have come from that man as his hand was severed from his body?
A violet robed figure on the circle’s perimeter stepped closer to the man, although he was careful to not step outside the circle made from his blood. Just like the others, his hood was drawn, covering his face. Even still, Aydiin could tell this man held authority.
Only a golden fringe around the edges of his robes distinguished him from the others. Yet there was something in the way the others gave him space. There was something in the way the handless man looked at him. This violet robed figure was special.
“Well done, my child,” a raspy voice called out from underneath the violet hood. “Do you have faith the Great Lord will reward your sacrifice this day?”
“I do, Grand Master,” the man said between gasps of pain.
“Then your sacrifice is deemed acceptable. Life Eternal awaits you.”
With a flash, the robed figure unsheathed a black sword and with a casual swing decapitated the man. As the head rolled along the floor, the black robe collapsed in a heap. Blood spilled onto the tile, joining with the circle.
Aydiin’s eyes widened as the blood in the circle began to change. It grew from a crimson red to a midnight black, so dark that it began to absorb any light that dared approach it. He gasped as the darkness began to spread inwards.
Within a few moments, the darkness began engulfing the robed figures within the circle. Panic overtook Marcino’s eyes and he began to scream under his gag, struggling to free his bound wrists. Byanca screamed, bringing the gaze of those within the circle upwards.
Those eyes included Marcino’s. They found Byanca and Aydiin could see the message they conveyed.
Flee.
The darkness reached Marcino in the very center of the circle, engulfing his entire body. For a moment, the eyes remained, defiant of the darkness. Then the eyes too were overtaken by shadow.
For a moment, the darkness hung. Aydiin could still see the robed figures and Marcino within. They seemed frozen, imprisoned by the shadow.
Then, it was gone. It didn’t fade, it didn’t move. It was simply no longer there.
And so were Doge Marcino and his captors.
Chapter 32
What do we do now?” Aydiin asked as he studied the circle left in the middle of the dance floor. He tried very hard to ignore the corpse – and more disturbingly, the man’s head that lie only a few spans away – as he mulled their options over in his mind.
“I don’t think there is anything we can do,” Byanca replied. She stood near the glass wall, her eyes staring off towards the harbor. “We can try to find my father later, but for now, we need to get out of the city.”
“I won’t argue with you on that point,” Aydiin said, still staring at the circle.
The ground inside the ring hadn’t been affected. Yet where the blood had been spilt had turned a deep black, almost as if the tile had been burned. It didn’t make any sense.
“Aydiin, I need your help,” Byanca said, and the words brought him out of his fascination with the circle.
“I’m sorry,” Aydiin said, moving to join his wife. “We need to get out of here. First, we need to wait for Seb and Joon to get back. They’ll have an idea – I’m sure of it.”
“Of course, you’re right,” Byanca said, raising a hand to wipe tears that had come unbidden.
“Everything is going to be fine,” Aydiin said, wrapping his arms around her. She nuzzled her face into his shoulder.
“I don’t think you know what you’re saying,” Byanca said. “Palmas is in flames, the Republic is collapsing, and those monsters have my father.”
“Yeah, it’s bad – I’ll give you that,” Aydiin said. “But we’re going to figure this out.”
“I don’t know if you saw, but darkness just swallowed my father and a dozen other men,” Byanca said, pulling her face away from Aydiin’s shoulder.
“I know,” Aydiin sighed. “The Order is so much more powerful than we are.”
“You’re right. Aydiin, we need to level the playing field,” Byanca said, and Aydiin knew what was next. “We need to find the other Great Stones.”
“That’s comforting,” Aydiin sighed. “We just need seven more mythological Stones, two of which belong to established monarchs. Sounds easy.”
“I think we should go after the
low-hanging fruit,” Byanca said. “Your father would never expect you to steal the Great Stone of Surion.”
“He doesn’t expect it because it’s atop the tallest statue in the world,” Aydiin laughed. Even if you could get past the guards on the way up, getting down would take so long that the entirety of the jandarm would be ready to arrest you the moment you set foot back on the ground.”
“You’re Aydiin – you’ve penetrated the depths of the Soulless Desert,” Byanca said, grabbing him by the shoulders. “And I’m Byanca of House Cavour. Together, we’ll think of something.”
“So once Seb and Joon get here, what’s the next step?” Aydiin asked. “Sure, let’s go to Maradon. We’ll think of something along the way. But how do we get out of this city?”
“Look down at the harbor,” Byanca nodded out the window.
Aydiin directed his gaze towards the harbor. In all the chaos, the ships had apparently pulled out instead of becoming embroiled themselves. Except for one, single ship.
“It’s an Albonan freighter,” Byanca was smiling. “I don’t know why it hasn’t left port yet, but it’s our ticket out of here.”
“What if it belongs to the Order?” Aydiin asked.
“Then it wouldn’t be preparing to shove off,” Byanca said. “Look, there’s smoke rising up out of the smokestack. If that were the Order’s, it would be setting up shop for the long haul.”
“That doesn’t give us much time,” Aydiin said. “Seb had better get here soon.”
Byanca opened her mouth to respond, but the roar of engines stopped her. The sound was a rumble, much deeper than the motorized bicycles had been. There was also a weight to the noise.
Three trucks lumbered to a stop outside the gates. As they did so, soldiers with heavy bolt action rifles poured out of the canvas covered cargo-beds. These men were disciplined, moving like professional soldiers.
“The rebels?” Aydiin asked.
“It could be the Order,” Byanca responded. “Of course, they’re really the same thing. We need to get out of here.”
“We can’t just abandon Seb and Joon,” Aydiin replied.
“Those men are more than capable of taking care of themselves,” Byanca said, grabbing Aydiin by the wrist and leading him away from the window.
But they have Askari, Aydiin thought but didn’t voice out loud. Escaping from the palace at this exact moment was absolutely imperative. He couldn’t risk their lives for Askari. That kerton could more than fend for himself. With Seb and Joon along, that trio could bring down the Order by themselves.
Byanca led him through the hallways, and Aydiin didn’t ask where they were going. The woman knew every corner of this house. If they were to escape, she would know exactly where to go.
Heavy footsteps could be heard from behind them, followed by shouting. Aydiin whipped his head around to see a quartet of soldiers. They saw Aydiin and raised their rifles.
Byanca turned a corner, bringing Aydiin along as bullets ripped into the hallway. The shots were followed by more shouts and the sound of boots running down the hardwood floor. Ahead, there was more corridor.
“We’ll take a right at the end of this hallway,” Byanca said as she took off into a sprint.
Aydiin followed, trying to keep up. The hallway looked like any other, except it was on the perimeter of the palace. Windows outside showed the courtyard and the soldiers who were pouring into the palace grounds.
The footsteps behind stopped as Byanca reached the doorway on the right. Her hands grasped the knob and she pushed the door open, exposing a dark room within. Aydiin could hear shouts as rifles were raised on the other end of the hallway.
Shots rang out just as Aydiin followed Byanca into the darkened room. His wife slammed the door as soon as he was clear. His heart pounded and his breathing felt ragged.
“We don’t have long,” Byanca said, closing the lock on the door. “Hurry, I need your help.”
She flipped on a light switch, exposing a large warehouse. Instead of goods, it stored automobiles. The limousine they had taken to the ball at the Farnese mansion sat in a corner along with a few others. Aydiin liked where this was going.
“Grab the other side of this,” Byanca said, moving towards a lump covered in a canvas sheet.
She grabbed one end while Aydiin rushed to grab the other. Together, they lifted the canvas to reveal an automobile. Aydiin quickly realized this was no ordinary vehicle.
It was a work of art. Many of the taxis around the city were factory produced clunkers. The limousines were made for luxury and prestige. This vehicle was made for one thing – speed.
Crafted from the finest of steel, its cream colored body seemed more than solid. The red leather interior was open to the air, allowing Byanca to jump in without opening the door. The front half was pure motor, and as Byanca ignited the engine, he could tell it had more than enough power. A thrill went up his entire body, and he forgot that they were being pursued by professional soldiers.
A kick to the door quickly reminded him of this fact.
“Get in,” Byanca shouted, and Aydiin rushed to do so.
Jumping into the passenger seat, he could feel the vibration of the engine. It was like a kerton being held in a cage, eager to be let free. He couldn’t wait.
“Byanca, the doors are closed,” he said, looking ahead to see a wooden barn door. It was closed fast, and he didn’t know if there was time to open it.
“I know,” she smiled. “Keep your head down.”
She shifted the gear stick and the vehicle roared to life. Aydiin barely had time to brace himself as the car crashed into the barn doors, sending wood and dust into the air in a cloud. Aydiin laughed, whether from shock or pleasure, he didn’t know.
Shouts sounded all around them, soldiers panicking as their enemy escaped. More gun shots rang out, and Aydiin heard one or two ricochet off the steel body. Luckily, none hit the tires or anything essential.
Byanca took a sharp turn, the tires squealing, as the automobile took them out of the palace grounds and into the deserted city streets. Soon, the shouts of dismay faded. Aydiin knew they wouldn’t have long.
Directing the vehicle down Republican Avenue, Byanca whooped in pleasure. The wind blew in her hair, her bun completely undone. There was excitement in those eyes.
The street was broad and paved with asphalt, surrounded by park strips with shade trees. On a normal day, it would have been full of bustling people enjoying an unusually warm winter afternoon. Now, however, the street was abandoned.
Byanca shifted gears again, and the pitch of the motor changed as did their speed. He couldn’t help but notice that she was an excellent driver, and he wondered where she had learned to be so aggressive. She expertly dodged the debris in the road without slowing, and her face spoke more of the concentration of someone who was enveloped in a favorite hobby than the concentration of someone fleeing a burning city.
Aydiin turned his gaze away from the lovely woman and was shocked to see a pile of burning rubble blocking the road. Cars, furniture, tires all stacked into a neat pile burned slowly, blocking their access to the harbor. Aydiin’s stomach fell – that freighter was within sight. He could almost smell freedom and the ocean.
Byanca slowed only slightly as she turned the car down a side street. The tires squealed again, and the engine roared back to life as she sped down the much smaller street. Aydiin immediately began to feel nervous again.
The road was cobblestone instead of asphalt, and the ride was significantly harder on his body. As he jostled, he could see that the homes here had been spared from the inferno that had decimated much of the city. Still, the three-storied buildings were crammed close together, and the car took up most of the street.
Something was stretched across the narrow alleyway. He couldn’t see what it was - perhaps a rope or cable. He definitely didn’t like the looks of it.
The car hesitated slightly as it careened through the thin steel cable. With a snap, supports secur
ing it to the buildings on either side of the street gave way. The cable fell to the ground.
An explosion rang out, spreading dust and debris on the street behind them. Aydiin turned to Byanca to see an expression of fear in her eyes as she slammed on the breaks. The car skidded to a stop, completing a 180 degree turn as it did so. Aydiin panted, unsure of what had just happened.
For a moment, the world was still. His ears were ringing, drowning out everything else. For his eyes, there was only dust.
A low grown sounded from the buildings on either side of the road. One of them began to topple forward, its foundation having taken the brunt of the explosion.
Stone, brick, and glass toppled onto the street, slamming into the neighboring buildings. Aydiin watched in horror as the road they had just used became impassable, blocked by the rubble of an entire townhome.
“Why would they set off explosives behind us?” Byanca gasped.
“I have no idea,” Aydiin responded, his mind racing through what he knew of the Order. “Because they’re trying to trap us.”
The Order never tried to kill him. They always wanted him alive. Perhaps they knew he would make his way through the city towards the docks. It was all a set up.
Byanca shifted the vehicle into reverse and slammed her foot on the accelerator. The automobile careened backwards until they reached another alley. Then Byanca whipped the steering wheel and the car turned to face the new side road.
Throwing the car back into gear, Byanca began speeding through the new narrow road. Again, the street made him uncomfortable. He felt more justified in that feeling now.
“We have to get back onto a main road,” Byanca said, making another turn. “We’ll never make it to that ship if we don’t.”
“Byanca, they know we’re coming,” Aydiin said. “They knew we would make our way towards that freighter. This is a trap.”
“Then let’s spring the trap and beat them at their own game,” Byanca said over the engine’s roar.
