Hand of Justice Boxed Set

by Jace Mitchell

  And then she was in front of him, the fire gone, nothing separating Rendal from Riley’s deadly steel.

  She swept it down in a strong arc, aiming for his collarbone, intent on slicing right through the man.

  Her arm stopped moving and she felt her feet lift off the ground, realizing that he had control of her as he had Lucie. The bracelet on his wrist was shining brightly in the darkness.

  Riley was lifted into the air so that she was staring directly into his red eyes.

  “Yes. You are perfect, my dear. Absolutely perfect.” He looked to his left and Riley felt her head being turned to her right so that both of them stared at William. There were more dead around him, but four remained, and they were beating him back. Circling him, bringing their swords down on the huge man as he tried to parry.

  “He’s going to die,” the mage insisted. “And you will watch. Then you will come back into the compound with me, just as I said you would.”

  The magic is in us whether or not we want to acknowledge it, and sometimes it bubbles to the top without any help from us. Definitely in moments of stress, and with people who hold a lot of potential. It just pours out.

  Lucie’s words fluttered through Riley’s mind. She didn’t know if they were from the past or something she said now, but as she stared at William, the words grew louder.

  Definitely in moments of stress, and with people who hold a lot of potential. It just pours out.

  DEFINITELY IN MOMENTS OF STRESS, AND WITH PEOPLE WHO HOLD A LOT OF POTENTIAL. IT JUST POURS OUT.

  IT JUST POURS OUT.

  ITJUSTPOURSOUT.

  Riley’s eyes flickered to red, matching the evil mage’s.

  “Get fucked,” she spat, and then Riley knew only the color red. It consumed her, and everything around her.

  Chapter Nine

  Riley remembered little of her travels back. She remembered the sun beating down constantly. Threatening to murder her and the man she traveled with. She remembered the man’s weight; he was huge like a planet, unable to walk. She remembered tying the clothes of the dead together, creating a shitty sheet and strapping William to it. She remembered dragging him.

  She remembered missing Wind Whisper, wanting her horse as badly as she wanted anything. There hadn’t been time, though. She couldn’t get to the horse.

  Riley passed out sometimes, unable to hold her eyes open.

  She slept sometimes, actually making camp.

  Riley gave the big man water but took little for herself. She petted his hair at night, and between his feverish ravings, told him he was going to be okay.

  She remembered always being on the lookout, confident that they were coming—the red-eyed mage and his minions. That they would find her and her friend and kill them both before she could make it back to New Perth.

  Riley remembered little, but she continued on. The same steel that created her sword also made up her spine, and she didn’t quit. Strapping the makeshift canvas to her back, she dragged the big man through the desert, woods, and ravines.

  When Rendal’s men came for her, she saw them a long distance away. She thought she might have been delirious, the riders on the horizon only figments in her mind. Yet, as she waited, the figures grew larger. That made sense, because why would they simply let her go? Why would they not send someone after her to finish the job that they started at Rendal’s compound?

  Riley set down the makeshift tarp, leaving the big man to lie groaning beneath the sun. She pulled her sword from its sheath and watched the seven riders come.

  She remembered little of what came before in the travel, and she would remember little of what came next, but her mind returned to her at that point. The trained part that was pure killer. Righteous, but a killer all the same. She knew she might die as they approached. She was weak, and whatever had happened back at the mage’s compound would not happen again. There would be no explosion from a well deep inside her.

  Steel versus steel. That was how this would go, and perhaps she would lose. Either way, she would stand against them.

  They descended from their horses and came for her, screaming.

  Riley moved without thinking. She parried left and right and spun like a deadly dancer listening to music that only she could hear.

  Her sword slashed and cut. Screams and groans filled the air as blood fell to the ground.

  One of their swords cut her left arm. Riley whipped around, catching the man across his throat. He dropped his weapon and dropped, trying to close the new hole with his hands.

  In the end, the seven who had come for her on horseback lay on the ground around her. Their horses had long ago taken off, heading back to the compound. Riley hoped they would turn wild, not return to such an evil man.

  She stared at the dead men for a moment, her chest heaving as breath surged in and out of her lungs.

  There was nothing more to do except continue, so Riley grabbed the tarp and began pulling again.

  More time passed, but she saw no other soldiers coming for her. Her mind retreated, the trained killer leaving and the lost and injured woman returning. She was on autopilot, trying to save herself and her friend.

  At first, she thought the men were a mirage. She saw them in the distance, riding horses toward her. As they kept coming, she realized she wasn’t hallucinating and unsheathed her sword, ready to fight again.

  When she saw that their horses wore New Perth’s emblem, Riley Trident, Right Hand of the Assistant Prefect, fell to her knees. Thin, sunburned, scratched, bleeding, and wounded, she knew that help had finally arrived. Mason had sent scouts.

  The scouts placed both her and William on horses; one rode with each, ensuring they didn’t fall off. Riley went in and out of consciousness.

  When they arrived at New Perth, she didn’t hear the guards screaming down from the walls. The gates opened slowly after both the Prefect and Assistant Prefect were told of the happenings. Doctors and nurses rushed to the scene, and as the citizens tried to crowd around the Right Hands, they were thrown backward by soldiers, creating a wall of space between the wounded and the healthy.

  The citizens wanted to see.

  They’d heard the Right Hands were near death, and they had to see it—the most elite force in all of New Perth brought low by some unknown force.

  They stared on as the doctors worked, moving out of the way when the Prefect and his son came. Mason rushed to Riley’s side, not hearing any of the doctors’ warnings that he might hurt her. He looked into her face, her eyes closed, and felt nothing but fear. His protector. His warrior. His Right Hand.

  She lay before him unconscious.

  “Will she live?” he called to the doctors.

  “We don’t know,” came the answer.

  Mason whirled to the man who had spoken. “She lives. Do you understand? She lives, or you’ll be held responsible.”

  He’d never said anything like that before; never even thought such a thing. Yet, at that moment, all he cared about was Riley’s life.

  Riley living.

  The Right Hands were finally transferred from the ground in front of New Perth to the castle’s infirmary.

  Mason didn’t leave Riley’s side, not even when the Right Hands were placed in different rooms. Not even when his father requested his attention. Mason did not leave.

  Riley spoke once in the hours that followed.

  She opened her eyes for a second, and Mason thought he saw recognition.

  “Riley!” he practically yelled.

  “He’s coming,” she whispered, her voice weak and raspy. “He’s coming for me, and for New Perth.”

  Chapter Ten

  Mason sat in front of his father, Goland. They were in the Prefect’s private quarters, a place Mason was rarely invited to. He was the man’s son, but there was a distance between them that he’d never been able to cross. Perhaps it was the death of Mason’s mother during birth, or perhaps it was how Mason had taken to the streets instead of the court when he was young, but
regardless, there was space separating them.

  Physically and emotionally.

  Mason’s quarters were on the other side of the castle.

  Mason’s father rarely asked for his counsel.

  Yet he’d been summoned.

  Goland was seventy years old, and Mason thought this past year had been harder than the previous ones. His father moved slower. He spoke slower. Mason didn’t know if that meant he thought slower, and he would never bring up such a thing. There might be a separation between the two, but Mason loved him and would serve him loyally until the man breathed his last.

  Goland’s head general, Verith, left the room as Mason entered, giving the Assistant Prefect a slight bow on his way out. Goland sat on the other side of the large living room. He had a cigarette in his hand, and Mason could tell he’d rolled it himself. He hardly smoked anymore, having given it up after the castle’s head doctor said it was adding to his cough.

  Sure enough, quitting had killed the cough.

  But he was smoking now, the gray smoke floating up to the ceiling.

  “I told Verith what Riley said.” His father didn’t stand.

  Mason went to the chair the general had just given up but remained on his feet.

  “Sit, sit,” Goland said hurriedly.

  “Yes, sir.” Mason took his seat.

  “You did a good job sending the scouts out to find them. Now, tell me again what Riley told you.” His father was looking across the room, the ash long on his cigarette.

  Mason nodded. “’He’s coming. He’s coming for me, and for New Perth.’”

  Goland nodded. “That’s what I thought. That’s what I told Verith.”

  “What are you planning on doing?”

  “She hasn’t woken up yet, has she?” Goland asked as if he hadn’t heard Mason’s question.

  “No, sir. Not yet. Neither has William.”

  “Twenty-four hours and they’re both still out. What are the doctors saying?”

  “It’s touch and go. William was badly wounded. Multiple stab wounds and burns. They said he should have died during the attack, let alone made it the distance he did. Riley was physically hurt too, but not as badly. She’s got a virus running through her, and the elements beat her down. They’re trying to kill the virus, but her fever is worse this evening than it was yesterday.”

  “And the man they took with them? The one from the court?”

  Mason shook his head. “There’s no sign of him, sir.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  His father was silent for a moment, and Mason let him think.

  “New Perth has never faced a true threat. We’re prepared for one, or at least we think we are. We really won’t know until it happens, though. That’s when we’ll understand if our preparations were worth a damn.”

  Mason nodded.

  “The man, the one we can’t find now—he was talking about magic in court that day, wasn’t he? He was saying someone was using technology to steal people’s magic and using it for themselves, right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Mason answered.

  “I heard it, and I thought he was crazy. I thought he’d been in the sun too long, and I sent him on his way without considering it. Only when you came to me and asked that the Right Hands go check it out did I begin to think. Begin to consider.”

  “What, Father?”

  The Prefect didn’t look at him, just puffed slowly on the cigarette and stared at the wall.

  “I was young. Twenty years old. My father was forty or so when the city granted him the title of Prefect. I didn’t know what any of it meant back then, not really. I didn’t know the responsibility that would come when the title passed to me. I loved my father, and I believed in his message. He had to keep a ragtag group of people together, help them survive after so much destruction.

  “He had a rival, though. A man named Rendal Hemmons. Hemmons thought we should use magic. He thought it would make our lives easier; at least that’s what he told people. My father never believed it, and neither did I. We both thought Rendal wanted everyone to use magic because he was the best at it. His skills far surpassed anyone else at that time, and if magic was used, he would be the most powerful man in the land. Hemmons wanted magic because it would create a caste system with him at the head.

  “My father didn’t want that and neither did I, and eventually the city sided with us. Hemmons tried to throw a coup, briefly. He was almost killed, and banned from the city. He never returned, and I honestly thought he’d died, son. I haven’t thought of him in fifty years or so. When that man came to court, I never once thought about Rendal Hemmons.”

  His father paused, taking another drag. Mason had never heard of this Rendal Hemmons before. He’d known that his grandfather had been the city’s first Prefect, but the opposing man had never been mentioned. He was never talked about.

  “I went down to Lucie’s restaurant early this morning before the sun came up so no one would recognize me. I wanted to ask her what she thought.”

  “Lucie?” Mason asked. “Why?”

  “If I’m remembering correctly, she was Rendal’s lover. She used magic as well and sided with him when it came to what the city should do. Yet, when he lost and the people decided not to use magic, she obeyed their will. When Rendal’s coup happened, she used her magic to help defeat and ban him, and as far as I know, she never used it again. I went to see if she thought it was him; was Rendal.”

  “Hold on. If they were my grandfather’s age, how are they still alive?”

  Goland nodded. “Rendal was my father’s age. Lucie was younger than him. I thought it was an odd relationship, but I imagine their magic must have strengthened their love for each other. Lucie is old, but not that old. I don’t know how Rendal is still alive.”

  Mason didn’t know what to think and figured it didn’t matter. They had to move forward. “What did Lucie say when you went to the restaurant?”

  “She wasn’t there.”

  “What?” Mason asked, nearly standing up from his chair. “She’s always there. Lucie doesn’t leave the restaurant.”

  “Someone else was there. He called himself a ‘temporary manager.’ He said Lucie had taken a vacation and should be back soon.”

  Mason stared down at the table, not fully understanding everything he was being told. Lucie was a mage? Lucie was missing? Lucie was some long lost mage’s lover, who might also be coming to take down New Perth?

  “This is a lot, Father. What are you saying?”

  “A few things. One, William is burned. That means fire was involved, and mages use fire. They throw it like William does those hand-axes. Two, both of our Right Hands were badly beaten in a trip to discover a mage. Three, Riley said he’s coming for us.” His father looked at him for the first time. “I’m not a genius, Mason, and I’m old. I’m not as quick as I was even ten years ago, let alone twenty, but I think it’s Rendal. I think he’s coming to claim the city he wanted for his own. I think he’s bringing magic, too, and if so, we’re in trouble. Our defenses will help, but are they going to be enough?”

  “What do you need me to do, Father? I’m at your disposal.”

  “I know.” Goland patted his son’s hand. “It’s a four-day trip, right? That’s how long Riley told you it would take to get there?”

  Mason nodded, feeling his father’s hand on his for the first time in years. It felt odd, but also good. Yet, above everything else, it shoved the severity of this situation into sharp focus. His father would not show such emotion if death weren’t drawing close.

  “It will take you twice that to get to Sidnie, then another eight to get back. We’re looking at over two weeks, but we need mages. If we’re going to have a chance, we need magic.”

  “Then I’ll go to Sidnie, Father.” Another part of him thought of Riley. Of her still lying in the ward unconscious, and how he would have to leave her there.

  The old man nodded. “Yes. Go today. Now. As soon as you leave this table. Wit
hout Riley, you’ll need to take the Honor Guard. Take five of the best, and hurry, son. Move faster than you ever have before, because the city depends on it.”

  Everything was prepared, the Honor Guard waiting on Mason just outside the castle.

  Mason knew duty propelled him forward; that he had to go to Sidnie or everything he loved would end. Yet, as the Guard waited on him, Mason wound his way to the castle’s medical ward.

  He went to Riley’s bed and knelt next to her. He put her hand in his.

  “I have to leave, Riley. Father is sending me to Sidnie because we have to have mages if we’re going to stop what’s coming. I’ll be back, though. I’ll return and I’ll be right by your side again, although by then I’m sure you’ll be walking around.”

  Tears were in his eyes as he stared at his Right Hand. He’d sent her north. He’d sent her with the man talking about magic and death, and now she lay unconscious with a fever ravaging her body.

  “You have to get better, Riley. You have to come back to me. To New Perth. It needs you. I need you.”

  He stared at her for another few minutes, but his Right Hand did not move. She gave no indication that she knew he was there, and finally Mason stood.

  He left the ward, heading toward the Badlands to find magic.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rendal’s side was badly burned. Days later, and none of his magic had been able to speed up the healing process. His side was raw and painful. Only he and Lucie had survived the explosion in that yard; all his guards had been blown to bits. Well, Riley and the other Right Hand had also survived, but Rendal wasn’t counting them. They were gone—escaped—and now Rendal was in severe pain, yet almost joyous at what he’d seen.

  He was heading down to Lucie’s prison. The prison levels were beneath the ground, of course, but Rendal had been kind to Lucie, giving her a cage all to herself.

  Harold was with him, walking at his side. Rendal knew now that Harold would be discarded or severely demoted once Riley came into the fold. He was smart and capable with his weapons, but he was nothing compared to Riley Trident. He was an ant compared to her.