Solyrian Conspiracy - C M Raymond & L E Barbant

by Michael Anderle

  There was a lot of blood.

  Vitali wasn’t sure what he’d hoped to find here. If there had been incriminating evidence, Kirill would have found it. Or covered it up. Still, seeing this house reminded Vitali what he was up against. This city housed the killer of a king.

  He had turned to leave when something caught his attention. A breeze, faint and nearly undetectable, brushed his fur, but it wasn’t coming from the open door. It was coming from deeper within the house.

  An ornate chair, the kind that looked too expensive and too uncomfortable to sit in rested in the corner. Vitali moved toward it, and the strange breeze grew stronger. He grabbed the arms of the chair and tried to move it aside, but it was bolted to the wall. Strange, for a chair. He pulled hard and the wood began to drag along the floor, bringing the wall with it.

  But it wasn’t a wall, not really. It was another door.

  A small hidden chamber opened in front of Vitali. He stepped inside.

  The room was filled with candles burned down to different levels, but Vitali had brought no matches with him. His eyesight was good enough to see in the dark, aided by moonlight creeping in through a small window near the ceiling. The source of the breeze.

  If the main room with the bloodstains was nice, this room was extravagant. A beautiful, hand carved bed filled the back wall, a bed too small for an adult. There were heavy-looking toys littering the ground as well, but Vitali’s eyes barely registered the nice things. He was too focused on the ugliness.

  Burn marks on the silk sheets. Deep claw-like gouges in the wallpaper. A metal horse that looked like it had been crushed by a hand.

  What kind of person lived in a place like this?

  Before he could think further, he heard Thaed shouting from the main room. Vitali stepped out of the haunted bedchamber and found the man standing before him, out of breath.

  “Quick, I need you outside.”

  Before Vitali could ask a follow up question, Thaed was out of the house. Vitali sprinted after him. He ran through the broken door and into the middle of a ring of people.

  There were at least a dozen of them, and they all wore black from head to toe.

  “I’m sorry,” Thaed told him, his voice breaking. “I had no choice.”

  “You shouldn’t be snooping around here.” One of the figures stepped forward. His voice was odd, like he had a recently broken nose.

  “Let me guess, you work for Kirill? What’s he trying to hide?”

  The man in the mask laughed. “Guess you’ll never know.”

  Without a signal, the black masks attacked. Each of them wore metal gauntlets on their hands, and they knew how to throw a punch with them.

  Vitali tried not to give them an easy target.

  He lashed out with his claws, drawing blood from someone’s stomach. This kept the circle of attackers back, but Vitali knew it wouldn’t last.

  They came at him again, and Vitali looked like he was going to fight, but at the last second, he bolted in the opposite direction and jumped. A woman reached for him, but he was too fast. He pushed off her head, leaping into the air.

  If he could just get past the circle, he could run for it. He was damn fast, after all.

  But as he cleared the attackers, a fireball came screaming past him. It clipped his shoulder and sent him spinning to the ground.

  He tried to gain his feet, but the black cloaks were on top of him. The metal on their hands and feet pummeled him. He curled into a ball, hoping to lessen the blows.

  The last thing he heard before he passed out was Thaed whimpering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Aliz's words were still dancing in Hannah's mind as she climbed the stairs to the great hall. Her words and her face. She just couldn't make out the difference between this young girl fighting for the soul of her city and her not so long ago. But still, something felt not quite right about the entire situation.

  Hannah passed a few natives of the city as she marched down a back hallway toward her suite. She turned a corner into a particularly dim corridor, and as she did, a hand grabbed her from an alcove to her left. Another hand clamped down over her mouth.

  The fighter instinct kicked in, and Hannah knocked away the hand muffling her cries for help with a quick shift of her forearm toward the ceiling. At the same time, she drew up a thick shaft of ice with a deadly frozen point in her right hand as she pinned her assailant against the back wall.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa," Parker shouted. “It's me. It's me."

  "If this is your idea of some sort of romantic rendezvous, you should consider what date night might be like with an ice spear driven through your leg. I was about to pulverize you," she stated as she lowered Parker back to his feet. Then she stepped up and whispered in his ear, "Not that a few minutes of romance would be such a bad thing."

  She stepped back, and Parker straightened his shirt. "Sorry about that.” He grimaced. "I should know better by now. I’ll have to develop a strict training regimen for our kids. Rule one: Don’t surprise your mother. Ever."

  "Kids?" Hannah asked with a slight smile. "I'll put that on the agenda to talk about on date night. Now, what's up?"

  "Something's going down," he whispered. "Follow me." Parker glanced over his shoulder and asked, "Can you give us a little something to quiet our steps?"

  "I'm already on it," Hannah said, her eyes burning red.

  They moved silently, footsteps muffled by physical magic, down a series of hallways until they stood outside an oak door. It was ajar, and they could hear Irmand and Kirill talking on the other side.

  "We've been working the girl all day now, and she still refuses to give up names. That means we know nothing about the other Blue Scarves, what they’re up to, or even how many there are. She’s tough as nails and as stubborn as a mule."

  Hannah heard Kirill snicker. "She can be as tough as she wants as long as you keep her behind those bars for just a little bit longer. It really doesn't matter if we find the others. After tomorrow, they will all know full well not to mess with us. We will show our might and our resolve. The Mylek people and any others assaulting our city will know who's in charge. You just have to make sure everything is ready."

  "Absolutely," Irmand agreed. "We will execute the traitor at dawn."

  Chapter Forty

  Hannah paced in her room. Parker sat watching her. It had been a long time since he'd seen his girlfriend this concerned, which said a lot since she had saved Irth a few times since they had left Arcadia.

  “Shit,” she said, finally taking a break from her pacing. “We can’t let them execute her. We can’t.”

  “I like it as much as you do, but she broke their laws. What did you expect them to do once they caught the fearsome leader of the Blue Scarves?”

  “She’s just a kid,” Hannah protested. “And what she was trying to do isn’t much different than us in Arcadia.”

  “You never tried to burn down the city,” Parker pointed out. “You protected innocents.”

  “I had Zeke to guide me. To help me harness my rage and my power. This girl has no one she can trust.”

  Hannah started to pace again.

  “I get that,” Parker replied. “But what can we do?”

  “I could blow those cells wide open,” Hannah suggested.

  Parker laughed. “There’s that. But then the city will hate you as well as each other. I thought we were aiming for peace here. Justice?”

  “And letting her get killed is Justice? Kirill doesn’t care about that. He just wants to look good before the election. For all we know, this execution is nothing more than a distraction. Kirill doesn’t want anyone to ask the real questions.”

  “Like, who had the most to gain from Aurel’s death?”

  “Exactly.” Hannah sighed. “For all we know, Kirill is the murderer.”

  Parker stood and crossed the room, then took Hannah's hand in his. Mostly, he just wanted to stop her pacing. But he als
o knew that she needed something now. She needed connection.

  “I’m with you. And more than Aliz, I’m worried about what happens to the city if she dies. No way the Blue Scarves back down if their leader is killed. And I don't think Irmand and Kirill give the rest of the Mylek enough credit for their strength and resilience. Kirill is hoping to quash a rebellion, but he could be creating a martyr. It's only one small step from small acts of civil disobedience to civil war."

  “This city needs a leader it can trust,” Hannah commented. “It’s the only thing to stop the fighting. Hell, maybe Kirill is the best one for that, but no one can trust anyone until we know who killed the king.”

  "Any word from Vitali?" he asked.

  “He’s still looking,” Hannah replied. “And I trust that he’ll get answers. We just need to give him time. Time we don’t have.”

  Before Parker could respond, the door burst open. A drunk and laughing Karl and Aysa came stumbling in. Karl dropped his hammer on the hardwood floor and settled onto a couch as Aysa leaned against the wall, bolas still spinning in her hand. Sal bounced in after them.

  "You two should’ve seen this little runt bastard out there tonight," Aysa began, her body shaking with laughter. "He was in rare form. Real rare."

  Karl looked at Parker and Hannah and sobered up faster than he could finish a pint of mead. "What’s wrong?"

  "We need to figure out a way to bust Aliz out of her prison cell,” Hannah told them.

  "What?” Karl groaned. “Why? Ye just caught her."

  "Because it's the right move. And it just might keep the city from blowing itself up."

  “Can’t we get a moment of rest?”

  "Pay no attention to the drunken rearick," Aysa suggested, still giggling. "Let’s go bust her out. Right-bloody-now.”

  Parker's mind was racing. The Bitch and Bastard Brigade had rushed in many times before. They'd always came out on the other side smelling like roses, but this wasn't just one battle, it was the life of the city. He realized that this time, things had to be different. More cautious.

  “We can’t do that,” he warned. “We can’t just charge in. Right now, Hannah is the only thing keeping the city together. Both Mylek and Myrna trust her. Some of them freaking worship her. She takes an obvious side, the Myrna lose all trust in her."

  “So, what? We let her rot?” Karl asked.

  “No,” Parker countered. “If she stands by during what the Mylek see as an unjust execution, Hannah will lose their trust. We just need to move forward with finesse.”

  Hannah nodded. "We need to free her while making it look like we were completely innocent."

  "Okay, so what's the plan?" Aysa asked, leaning over to scratch Sal behind the ear.

  Parker smiled. “Better sober up because this is going to be a little tricky. I’m going to need you and Karl at the top of your game.” He turned to Sal, who was enjoying the scratches from Aysa’s nails. “And you are going to need to be udderly believable, dragon.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  The smell of fresh pine filled Aysa’s nose as her eyes drifted over the joints of the newly constructed platform taking up most of the town square. By any measure, the stage was enormous, meant to indicate the significance of the act that would take place on it. Kirill had an eye for flair and knew how to talk to his people.

  A hangman, face covered by a thick black veil, stood next to a perfectly tied noose that swung only slightly in the breeze. His hand was on the lever that would activate the trapdoor beneath the victim.

  Kirill and the rest of the council were finely dressed for the occasion, eyes cast down the main thoroughfare. The city leaders waited for the procession to commence. However, Kirill’s eyes kept scanning the crowd, counting the participants of the show that he thought would solidify his influence.

  Aysa knew the man was disappointed. Many had not shown up for the occasion, whether due to a conscious decision or pure disinterest, she couldn't know.

  Ky stood next to him, her gaze downcast. One of the Mylek, one of her own, was going to the gallows. Aysa could only imagine what Ky was feeling, and how her gut must be churning. But if the Bitch and Bastard Brigade had anything to say about it, there would be no execution this day. A show? Absolutely.

  "I've seen a bigger crowd at a wee rearick’s birthday party," Karl said as if he knew precisely what Aysa was thinking. "And them parties were boring as all hell."

  Parker nodded. "True. But Kirill is not going to waste the moment.”

  The deed would be done, and people would talk about this day, possibly forever. He was banking on word spreading. Aysa couldn’t help thinking how this was all going to backfire on Kirill in the end.

  Aysa felt Hannah’s and Sal’s absence. She looked up at a small turret overlooking the square. On top of it, she could see a silhouetted figure standing tall, covered in a long cloak, its edges pushed about by the morning wind. Two tiny lights glowed from beneath the person’s hood, testifying to the magic within their blood. "I imagine there's going to be some fireworks. At least, if we have anything to say about it."

  "Aye, there the lass comes," Karl said, pointing toward the main promenade that led into the square.

  The beat of drums and the rhythm of boots marching rang out as the audience turned to see a perfectly executed procession of the Guard coming toward the hangman's platform. It was as if they had practiced for months for a moment such as this. As they neared, the crowd broke ranks, making a pathway for the lines of guards. As the procession turned a corner, Aysa saw what everyone had come to witness: Aliz in chains, sitting on the back of a thick, lumbering steer.

  “Pretty sure that’s an ox,” Aysa whispered.

  “Not now,” Parker shot back before the rearick could engage with her.

  The beast tromped along, taking its time getting to its destination. The condemned girl, not much older than Aysa, sat proudly, was silent, face drawn tightly with resolve. There wasn’t a chance she was going to give Kirill or his people the gift of showing even a hint of fear.

  While Aysa didn't actually know the girl, she couldn't help but have at least some level of respect for her. Aysa could still feel some lingering pain from burns Aliz’s fire had caused her and knew that the flames had meant losses for many in the community. Looking back down at the beast and then taking a glance at Hannah, Aysa said to her friends, "It seems to be working.” She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, squinting as she looked at the details of the mighty beast. "Maybe a little too well."

  "Scheisse! Aysa! Shut it, girl. And get ready. It's almost showtime."

  "Almost?" Parker shouted with a wink at his friend. "I think it's time right bloody now, you tiny-ass pipsqueak half-breed. If you don't stop looking at her like that, I'm going to take this spear and make you today's first offering to the Matriarch.”

  The crowd shifted, their gaze turning from Aliz to the man from Arcadia. A low murmur went through them. Aysa grinned, thoroughly looking forward to their theatrics, and more so the fight that would follow. Her hand instinctively on a set of her bolas, she looked up at Kirill. But the son of the king wasn’t looking at them. His eyes cut from the steer to the woman on the turret and back.

  “Make it quick,” she said under her breath to her friends.

  "I'd like to see ye try, ye lowlander son of a bitch. Yer hardly a month off yer ma’s teat. Ye really think ye can handle this?" Karl's voice boomed louder than Aysa had ever heard it. He sounded like a caricature of himself. But as he drew up his hammer and raised it over his right shoulder, even she felt nervous for the Arcadian.

  A circle spread around the two men, like it would at a fight at the schoolyard. The only thing the crowd would want to see more than an execution was two outsiders beating the hell out of each other. Parker stepped back in a defensive stance and raised his spear over his head. The blue tip glowed with the power of Etheric energy.

  "Better to be recently whelped than half in the grave, like you are, rearick. You'v
e disrespected the lady and me for far too long. It ends now!"

  "Yer mother's not here to wipe yer ass or yer tears.” Karl snorted, then sneered. "But I'm happy to smack that look off yer damn face and teach ye a little respect. In fact, it would be me pleasure."

  Parker pulled the trigger on his spear and shot a stream of energy over the heads of the congregants. It exploded in a display of blue fire and cracks of thunder. The spectacle drew a collective gasp from the crowd.

  Aysa’s head spun on a swivel. The crowd had come for blood, and now they hoped they were going to get it at the hands of the foreigners, even if this was just the appetizer before the main course.

  She wondered if they had ever made a plan that had gone this smoothly. As the men continued to shout curses and blasphemies at each other, Aysa looked back up at Hannah. Her eyes were still glowing red, and she knew that even for the woman with the Matriarch’s blood running through her body, using mental magic on the crowd was taking an extreme amount of energy.

  Aysa could only hope there was some to spare in case shit went sideways.

  And as usual, it did.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Vitali woke to the sounds of metal chains rattling.

  It took him a few seconds to realize that the chains were his own.

  He was in a dark cell of some kind. The moist air and cool ground suggested a subterranean cavern. The fact that it was pitch-black made it hard to guess the time, but based on how sore his arms were, Vitali guessed he must have laid here for hours.

  Or maybe he was just in pain from having a dozen people jump him in an alley.

  He sat up as far as the chains would let him and tried to assess his injuries. Bruises covered his body, but nothing seemed broken.