The Arclight Saga

by C. M. Hayden

  Vexis glanced sideways at him. “There’s no such thing as a coincidence when it comes to Dr. Halric. That you can be sure of. If nothing else, it simplifies our search; and the closer we get to the capital, the more accurately I can track.” She furled up the map and wrapped a piece of twine around it.

  The three ate and slept, Taro surprisingly well considering the circumstances. However, in the deepest watches of the night, he awoke. Not to any noise or commotion, but to the soft flickering of candlelight. Pretending to be asleep, he cracked one eye open and saw Vexis at the window. She knelt and cupped a single lit candle in her hands; on the sides was writing that he couldn’t distinguish.

  She stared out the window into the night. This far from the Arclight, the entire sky was peppered with ten thousand stars awash in a sea of blue and black. The stars and constellations never changed, never moved, but too much light often drowned them out in populated areas.

  Taro never did find out what she was praying for (or to) and by dawn the writing on the wax was completely melted away.

  Chapter Twenty

  Irregular Tracks

  Kyra felt Magister Briego’s disappointed gaze heavy on her. She tried to ignore it on their carriage ride to the Carcerium, but to little avail. Briego wasn’t a particularly serious man most of the time; he didn’t especially enjoy his position as Imperator and was more comfortable in his workshop tinkering with one of his many projects. This was probably the reason her father had appointed him to the position, as he had little ambition beyond his own inventor’s curiosity.

  Nevertheless, when Briego was cross with you, he wasn’t shy about expressing it. He’d made it clear that he didn’t approve of her venturing around the city looking for phantoms when there were real matters that required her attention.

  “You are regent, and we’re teetering on a state of war,” he said. “Your place is in the palace with your advisors. I’ve got my best men investigating the Carcerium escape, magisters with much more experience than yourself. There’s nothing you can do that they can’t.”

  Kyra didn’t agree. In the days that passed since Vexis’ escape, there were still too many questions to count. It was clear that the Helian ambassadors aided her, but to what extent? Was she still in the city? Unlikely, but if not, how did she book passage out? Kyra found it dubious that any non-magister, even with Old God devices, could break the Carcerium’s defenses.

  Despite her best efforts, Kyra was noticeably impatient during her ride to the prison. Magister Briego sat across from her, tapping his plump fingers on the window frame, and watched the trees and white stone buildings pass as the carriage rattled along the cobblestones.

  “We should’ve killed her the moment we caught her,” Kyra said, thinking aloud. She was kneeding at a bit of fluff leaking out of her seat cushion, trying to focus her thoughts on something mundane.

  “Everyone’s entitled to a trial,” Briego said coolly. “Your father wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Kyra grimaced. “That’ll be the first thing I’ll look into changing if I’m ever queen.”

  Briego matched her frown. “I’m going to assume that’s just a joke in poor taste, as I’m sure I’ve taught you better than that.”

  Kyra waved the comment away. “Sorry. My head’s not in the right place.” She said this just to placate him, of course. She’d made up her mind on the subject already: if they caught Vexis again, they’d execute her on the spot. Still, she knew better than to tell Briego that.

  Kyra felt the familiar rush of static as they passed into the Carcerium suppression field. The carriage tottered up the road, through the enchanted wrought iron gates, and came to rest beside the head warder, Lord Commander Linos, who was barking orders at a handful of his men. The men, for their part, stood at attention and took the verbal onslaught without flinching.

  Linos was a tiresome, pinch-faced man that looked more like a grocer than a warder. Kyra couldn’t for the life of her understand how he’d gotten the position. What he lacked in stature, he made up for in bellicosity toward those in his command.

  Linos didn’t seem to notice Kyra and Briego exit the carriage until one of his men nudged toward them. The Lord Commander fumbled his words when he saw them and hurried to help Kyra down. She refused his hand and shot him a furious glare that made him slink back.

  “Your Highness,” he bowed to Kyra, then to Briego. “Imperator, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” Briego said. His eyes scanned from one end of the Carcerium courtyard to the other, to the top of the building, and finally back to Linos. "We’ve got teams sweeping the city as discreetly as possible.”

  “If she’s smart, she’s long gone by now.” Kyra folded her arms. “Your courier was vague on the specifics of her escape.”

  Linos regained his composure and his voice steadied. “Because we’re a bit unclear as to the specifics ourselves. That Helian ambassador, Trezu, was a part of it though. He came demanding to speak with Vexis and had express permission from His Majesty, so who was I to argue?”

  “We heard mention of some kind of Old God device?” Briego said.

  Linos began to explain but stopped short. “It’s better to show you,” he said, and led them around the back of the Carcerium along the curved stone footpath that cut through waves of clear, smooth sand. Near the corner of the building was a perfect circle carved directly into the stone. There were no breaks or abrasions in the cut, as if had been sanded down for hours. There was an identical hole on the opposite end of the courtyard, right through the outer wall.

  In front of the outer wall was a disc-like object that Kyra immediately identified as being created by the Old Gods, but was otherwise unfamiliar. It was slightly under a yard in diameter, composed all of metal and blue-tinted stone. She ran her hands along the complex inscriptions running along the edge and felt tiny indents of smaller inscriptions below the larger, visable ones. As she did, Briego produced a magnifying lens from his uniform pocket and held it a few inches over the Deific markings.

  “Where did you find it?” Kyra asked Linos.

  “On Trezu’s body by the docks. Brought it back here, and as you can see, it’s a perfect match for the size of the hole,” Linos said.

  Kyra pressed down on the groove in the center of the device. There was a flash of light and a light humming sound. When she picked it up from the ground, there was a perfectly circular hole cut into the sand.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Kyra said, glancing back at Briego.

  “Nor have I,” Briego said with cautious fascination. He tucked the lens back into his pocket. “Why would they leave it?”

  “Perhaps it slowed them down,” Linos said. “They needed to make a swift getaway. From the tracks in the sand, we can tell there were four of them altogether, though I saw only two before they incapacitated me.” He groused a bit at the thought.

  “The two Helian ambassadors, Sikes, and Vexis,” Kyra said to herself.

  Linos shook his head. “That’s what we thought, but apparently not. The second ambassador was left at the hospital some time before the escape. An apparent attack of some kind, we’re unsure why.”

  “None of the hospital staff saw them?” Briego said, with little hope.

  “No, Imperator,” Linos said. “Sorkesh was left outside the doors. Either way, he couldn’t have been here.”

  “Did any warder here see all of them?” Kyra said.

  “One,” Linos said, holding up his forefinger. “We found his body limp and nearly lifeless outside the wall, hexed by some foul magic. He came to an hour ago and is resting.”

  “I’d like to speak to him,” Kyra said.

  Linos raised an arm and pointed down the side of the building. “Right this way, Your Highness.”

  Linos led her and Briego to a tent that had been recently erected within the Carcerium walls. Inside was a wolf-fur cot where a middle-aged warder sat. Kneeling at his side was a Magist
erium medic, picking through his med-kit and measuring out an appropriate amount of medicine into a syringe.

  The medic tapped the side of the needle and squirted a tiny amount out.

  “I’m fine,” the warder said obstinately.

  “You were drugged,” the medic said, sticking the man in the arm. “You need to take the antitoxin to ensure there’s no lasting damage. The Arclight can only do so much.”

  The warder looked vastly uncomfortable under the needle, but he let the medic finish. When the medic withdrew the needle, the arclight flooding into the tent touched the warder’s skin and the tiny pinprick disappeared.

  “I need to get home. My wife’ll be worried sick,” the warder said as the medic gathered his equiptment.

  He soon noticed Briego, Linos, and Kyra at the tent entrance, and stood to attention. “Lord Commander, I request permission to return home.”

  “Soon enough.” Linos motioned toward Briego and Kyra. “This is Imperator Briego and Princess Kyra Termane.”

  The warder moved to stand. “My lord, my lady, I apologize. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s all right,” Kyra said, motioning him to remain where he was.

  There was something about the warder that Kyra found painfully familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. She’d met thousands of warders, but this one stuck out in a way that she found most distracting. She found herself staring.

  “My lady?” the warder said inquisitively.

  “Sorry.” Kyra shook her head as if to clear it. “What was your name?”

  “Talthis, my lady. At your service.”

  The name didn’t ring a bell. She dismissed the feeling of familiarity and focused in on the matter at hand. “What can you tell us about the escapees? How many were there?”

  “Two escapees, and two helping them,” Talthis said. “All of them were Helian. Ambassador Trezu and—” He hesitated. “—a younger Helian I’ve never seen before.”

  “Is there anything you can tell us about him?” Briego asked.

  “Light hair, fair skin, that’s all I can remember,” Talthis said. “It was all a blur; they stuck me with poison straight away.”

  Kyra saighed. Another dead end. “Anything else?” she asked, knowing that it was probably in vain.

  “No, nothing.” Talthis stared at the ground.

  “Very well,” Briego said. “If you remember anything at all, no matter how innocuous, please make your Lord Commander aware of it.”

  “Yes, Imperator,” Talthis said respectfully.

  As Kyra and the others exited the tent, she looked back one last time to the warder. Something nagged her in the back of her mind once again. Who was he?

  Kyra and Briego examined the escape route of the Carcerium for some time. The inmates were wholly unhelpful, and all refused to say a word about what happened. The few that did volunteer information spoke only of ‘voices in the walls.’ Utterly unhelpful.

  After an hour, they were no closer to any new information. Briego’s arms were crossed, and he looked as though he wanted to say something.

  Kyra spoke first. “Go ahead and say it, you were right.”

  “What were you expecting? There’s nothing to be gained from tearing yourself up over this. You’re regent now, you need to delegate menial tasks like this.”

  Kyra looked utterly defeated.

  Briego patted her on the shoulder. “Let’s go back to the palace. We’ll let Linos handle the rest of this. It’s his mess anyway.”

  Just as they started back toward the carriage, something caught Kyra’s eye. By now there were many sets of tracks in the sand, including her own. But among the many footprints were two that seemed irregular. At first, she’d chalked it up to just the wind blowing at the sand, or an irregular step, but as she examined it closer she realized that pattern was one she was familiar with. One leg stepping firm, and the other with a slight drag. Possibly the drag of an artificial leg.

  She said nothing. They returned to the Magisterium, and the first place Kyra went was the Artificium. She marched in with burning purpose, and found Ven hard at work inscribing the ends of a brass gear. He smiled at her, but she did not return it.

  “Where is he?” she said with smoldering enmity.

  Ven’s smile faded. “Who?”

  “Taro.”

  A look of surprise briefly flashed over Ven’s eyes, and he sat his inscriber down. “Taro’s been gone for days.”

  “You’re sure about that?” Kyra said testily.

  “I saw him leave myself.” Ven looked her square in the eye. “What’s this about?”

  “I think you know exactly what this is about. And if it turns out you helped him, there will nothing I can do to protect you.”

  Ven pointedly turned his back to her and went back to inscribing his gear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Magister. Taro left days ago. I saw it, Suri saw it. Even Magister Veldheim will tell you he’s gone. Go ahead, ask him.”

  Kyra knew when she was being lied to, but choked down a few fiery words, and instead simply said, “I intend to.”

  _____

  Magister Veldheim was working in his insectarium. It was a small, dimly lit room with rows and rows of transparent glass drawers with dirty, peeling labels glued on the fronts. Each of them housed a different kind of bug or insect used for different inscription inks. On the left were the arachnids and on the right were moths and butterflies. Veldheim dawned a pair of thick, frayed gloves and was pouring what looked like churned sausage into the feeding tube of a shelf labeled ‘Kadreken Flesh-eating Gnats.’

  He didn’t seem to notice Kyra enter, and jumped when she cleared her throat, almost dropping the vat of meat.

  “God below, Kyra!” he shouted. “What the devil are you doing sneaking up on me like that? These things will eat through a finger in two chomps.” He wiped sweat from his forehead.

  “Sorry,” Kyra said, a bit shaken.

  Many of the bugs in the room weren’t contained in the shelves. Moths fluttered around the air in packs, and spiders and centipedes crawled around the floor. Kyra tried not to step on any of them, knowing such casual disregard for the creatures might send Veldheim into a froth. He was very protective of even the smallest of them.

  Veldheim didn’t miss a beat, and when he was done feeding the gnats, he moved on to a glass shelf labeled ‘Lightning Ants.’ The little eight-legged creatures glowed like fireflies, and their ant hill looked like a tiny version of a vast city seen from the air at night.

  “How can I help you?” Veldheim asked casually. He was pouring a few drops of honey into the shelf.

  “Ven says that Taro left the capital a few days ago, is that true?” Kyra said.

  Veldheim nodded casually. “He sure did. Went to find his sister in Helia, as I understand it. He’s supposed to bring me back some ingredients for a—”

  “Helia…” Kyra said to herself. “You’re sure he left, though? Before the incident at the Carcerium?”

  “I believe so.” Veldheim had his forehead pressing against the glass, watching the lightning ants swarm the honey drops. A few sparks of electricity jolted between them, and Veldheim smiled to himself. When he was done, he glanced sideways at Kyra, his face still pressed against the glass. “What’s this all about?”

  Kyra opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. “Nothing.”

  Veldheim moved onto the next cage. “Coming all the way up here for nothing seems unproductive.”

  “Sorry to bother you,” Kyra said bitterly. She wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Valley of the Dry Bones

  It rained that night, and the early morning air was cool and crisp. Dew hung off the shutters and buildings, and a slight film of mud caked the town roads. Taro, Sikes, and Vexis had packed their things and headed to the docks to join up with the rest of the caravan.

  Rodrick and his men were beside a row of four wagons loaded with cargo, each pulled
by two ponies. The fifth and sixth wagons were for passengers and a bit less cramped. The men were speaking amongst themselves quite passionately, and when they saw Taro and the others approach they immediately quieted.

  When they tried to load into one of the passenger wagons, Rodrick stopped them and pointed to a cargo wagon. “You three’ll ride in there.”

  Among the many crates and spools of silk, there was hardly room to sit, let alone sleep. Taro said as much, but Rodrick simply responded, “You mites are small, you’ll do just fine. Besides, I doubt your pretty little cousin wants to ride with a pack of ruddy old geezers.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Vexis said cheekily, “I could go for swindling you out of a bit more money. It’s a long trip, and I bore easily.”

  Taro didn’t see any point in arguing. On the contrary, being in a different wagon and keeping Vexis from the men was probably the best option. They loaded their few belongings into the wagon; Taro sat on a bag of salt, while Sikes wedged himself between two wooden crates that were tied to the floor.

  There was a great deal of shouting and milling about until Rodrick gave the order, and the caravan tottered down the road. A few minutes out and there was nothing but bright yellow farmland as far as the eye could see, going all the way to the mountains, and only a bright purple sky and the barest hint of the Arclight behind them. Somewhere on the other side of those mountains, Nima was waiting.

  It was a full seventeen hours of riding, with only a few stops to stretch their legs and relieve themselves. They were now well outside of the Arclight’s radius, and night and day had returned. It was an oddly alien concept to Taro, who had spent so much time in Endra that nighttime seemed like a distant memory.

  Vexis acted immensely bored of the whole situation. She laid beside the edge of the wagon with one arm hanging off, staring at the dirt passing by. Every so often, she’d pick a splinter off the wagon and drop it onto the road just to watch it fall. Still, she was remarkably quiet, which Taro chalked up as a positive.