by C. M. Hayden
Kyra just stared at the rope.
“I won’t ask again,” Rieu added.
Kyra did as she was told, binding Fenn and Lokír. When she was done, Rieu trotted over the minefield, zig-zagging past mines that Taro couldn’t see, but were undoubtedly just a few inches below the soil.
Taro remained stiff and unmoving as an oak tree, staring Rieu down with hard eyes. Rieu knelt beside Kyra and tied her hands together before turning his attention to the mine under Taro’s staff. He produced an inscriber from his belt, and scratched a set of dispelling runes onto the metal casing.
“That ought to do it. Lift your walking stick,” Rieu said.
Taro hesitated, but did so. There was a light clicking sound as he lifted the stick, and the mine hummed, but did not detonate.
Taro realized he only had a precious few seconds to get the better of Rieu, so he acted quickly. He focused his templar into his fist, with the sincere intention of knocking Rieu’s head clean off his body. But not only did Rieu not flinch, he grabbed Taro’s fist mid-swing.
It was then that Taro noticed that there were magistry runes carved into the flesh of the man’s gnarled hand; very thin, almost unnoticeable unless one was looking closely. Energy leys around the knuckles. Focusing wards on the thumb and forefinger.
When his hand grabbed Taro’s fist, the intricate cuts glowed, and suddenly Rieu’s hand felt like a red-hot frying pan. Taro could feel his own flesh sizzle, and he tried to pull away, but Rieu held him firmly in place. Taro writhed in agony; the pain wasn’t just in his hand, it seemed to pulse through his entire body, overwhelming his senses and sending him into a convulsive fit.
Rieu pulled away, and held his right hand aloft. There was so much raw templar coming from his hands that his fingers seemed set afire, and when he swiped his hand at Taro, it burned a claw-like scar through his clothes and onto his chest.
Taro put his hands to the burn and screamed.
Rieu was sweating, and his eyes were dark and sinister. He backed away, however, as if he realized he’d gone too far. “I was a fully commissioned magister before you were old enough to piss on your own.” The cuts on his hands darkened, and he calmed a bit. “I see you need that stick to walk, so I won’t tie you up, but try that shit again, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you.”
Taro groaned, and touched the tips of his fingers to the burns on his chest. They weren’t deep, but were incessantly painful.
“Why’d you make me do that?” Rieu asked, clearly frustrated. “Get on your feet.” He started through the minefield. “Follow closely, you three. Step only where I step.”
They didn’t have much of a choice. Closely and carefully, they followed Rieu deep into the narrow mountain pass. All the while, Taro wondered where the hell Kurian had run off to.
The sky was a constant hazy gray inside Thrain’s Pass; dreary, like a permanent winter’s evening. A faint bit of sunlight peeked through the tops of the mountains, but little reached the bottom of the pass. The road inside was winding and unpaved, and surrounded on both sides by a tangle of large, leafless thorny vines. The pass was long, and it wasn’t until a full half hour of walking that Rieu stepped off the beaten path and led them through a maze of boulders and trees. Hidden far away from the main road was the entrance to a cave, hardly big enough to slide into.
The inside was, in fact, a series of caverns, and each one was positively enormous. To Taro’s surprise, the first cavern was brimming with hundreds of people. Men, women, boys, and girls; the vast majority of them were Helians. Their pale skin, tattooed faces, and thick blonde hair was a dead giveaway. They’d constructed themselves a makeshift town in the dark, dank cave. There was no way to vent smoke, so there were no fires; however, there were a dozen or so magistry heaters scattered through the underground, glowing with faint blue light. Families huddled around them, chatting, laughing, and telling stories.
Water trickled from stalactites on the ceiling, and into huge pools of mineral-filled water below. The walls and floors of the cave were bright hues of red and orange, with some glittering mineral in the stone that made it shine like colored quartz.
“Who are these people?” Fenn asked, echoing what Taro was thinking.
“Helians,” Rieu said curtly.
Fenn gave him a look of profound annoyance. “Well, no shit, but why are they here? Why are they with you?”
“They have nowhere else to go,” Rieu said. “Not anymore.”
Taro thought about it. “You’re smuggling them out of Helia?”
“That was the plan,” Rieu said as he guided his prisoners through the throngs of people. “I’d led hundreds to Endra Edûn before the Arclight was damaged. More arrive every month hoping we can get their families to safety.”
“We?” Kyra asked.
Rieu did not respond, but when they entered the next cavern, there were two others waiting for them. Both were standing on opposite sides of a hand-drawn map of Helia.
Taro recognized one of them. It was the same man he’d met in the forest the night before, wrapped head to toe in cloth. The man seemed more than a little surprised when his eyes met Taro’s.
“You again,” the man said. His voice was still heavily augmented, and carried a hard burr that reverberated through the cavern.
Rieu nodded to Taro. “You know this one, Pitch?”
Pitch tilted his eyeglasses down. There was something terribly familiar about his eyes, something Taro couldn’t quite place. They were hard, and distant, and angry. “I do.” He turned back to the map. “Let them go.”
“What?” Rieu asked, bewildered.
“You heard me,” Pitch said.
“We can’t just push them out the door.”
“Quite right,” Pitch said. “Make sure to provide them with some coin, too. And their horses.”
Rieu gritted his teeth. “What?!”
“I suggest you do it, unless you want an armada of airships coming down on our heads.” He nodded toward Kyra. “That one’s the Sun King’s daughter.”
Rieu stammered, then collected his words. “Are you sure?”
Pitch shot Rieu a furious glare. “I have a better question. Why would you lead them here? Are you really that dense?”
“They saw the wreckage from the wagons. They knew something was up. If I’d let them go, they might’ve returned with more men. I couldn’t risk it.”
Pitch wasn’t amused. “Next time a random thought dances through that skull of yours, consider passing it by me and Lift before you run with it.”
Taro mouthed the names to himself. “Pitch. Lift.” He looked back at Kyra and Fenn. “Do you know them?”
Fenn and Kyra shook their heads.
“How do you know who I am?” Kyra asked.
“Please,” Pitch said, holding up his cloth-wrapped hand. “The less you know about us, the better. Just know we don’t mean Endra any harm. We’re only interested in saving as many Helians as possible.”
Lift spoke for the first time. He was a thin man of perhaps fifty years. He was all skin and bone, and was missing the ring finger on his right hand. “Might not be necessary anymore,” he said. “My contacts in Helia Edûn say the Shahl’s dead.”
Pitch grimaced. “That doesn’t mean Helia will go from Hell to paradise overnight. The Shahl’s roots go deep. His children will succeed him—”
“But Prince Lethen—
“Any prince that comes to power while the Shahl’s brats are alive is a puppet. If you think any differently, you’re not paying attention.” Pitch tapped the stone table pointedly. “Things are going to get worse before they get better.”
“So the Shahl really is dead?” Taro asked.
Pitch nodded. “It seems so. Some say it was Praxis that did it.”
“It was Vexis,” Tar
o countered.
“How do you know that?” Pitch asked.
“Uh…yeah, Taro, how do you know that?” Fenn asked dubiously.
Taro glared daggers into Fenn. “Because I pay attention to what people say. Praxis was telling the truth; if not the entire truth, a large part of it.”
“You’ve met Praxis?” Lift asked.
“We did,” Taro answered. “The dragons have him locked up now.”
“And what, pray tell, are you doing heading toward Helia?” Rieu asked accusingly. “Not looking for oathbreakers, you claimed.”
“We’re going to kill Vexis,” Taro said simply, his voice cold and deliberate.
“Such certainty,” Pitch said, sounding more than slightly amused. “Like I said, Rieu. Let them go. With our apologies.”
Rieu cursed under his breath.
“Wait,” Kyra said as Rieu untied her hands. “Magister Pitch.”
“Just Pitch, thank you.”
“Pitch. Our friends came through the pass a few weeks before us. A group of Endran soldiers. Are they alive?”
Pitch looked at Lift, then back to Kyra. “They are, Your Highness.”
“One of them is Lord Cassin Termane, my uncle.”
“Fuck all,” Pitch said, running his hands over his wrapped face. “The Sun King’s brother. Rieu, you didn’t feel like this was information I should be made aware of?”
“He was a loon,” Rieu said. “I didn’t think he was actually telling the truth.”
Pitch shook his head wearily. “Get them out of here. Them, and the other Endrans.” He looked to Lift. “Go with him, keep him honest for once in his life.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Dragonfire
Rieu was visIbly upset as he led Taro and the others to Lord Cassin’s cell. Cassin was inside, looking as wild and world-weary as ever. He still bore scars and bandages from the Eventide’s crash. He was sitting in the back, surrounded by his men, many still in poor shape. To their captors’ credit, the men seemed to still be receiving medical care. However, their weapons and armor had been taken, and each looked terribly helpless. Whether this was due to their confinement, or to being forced to listen to Lord Cassin’s stories, was unclear.
“I’ve been locked up for far longer than this,” Cassin opined, his back propped against a jagged cave wall. He shifted a bit to get more comfortable, but it seemed to be a losing battle. “Back in Arcadia, the Celosans tossed me into a pit of venomous snakes. I survived by staying completely still, and lowering my body temperature so they couldn’t see me. After fourteen days, I’d learned to be invisible to them, and escaped through the—”
“I thought that happened in Shin,” Kyra said, her arms folded over her chest. She was wearing a faint smirk. “And I recall you saying it was four days, not fourteen.”
Lord Cassin was so elated to see his niece that he practically leapt to his feet, and ran to the bars. They hugged through them, and Cassin kissed her on the forehead. “Gods below, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“We’re getting you out of here,” Kyra said, then backed away so Lift could unlock the cell.
“How did you manage to swing that?” Lord Cassin asked, rubbing his gray beard.
“They threw the four of us into an arena. We had to survive against hordes of rabid animals. Grizzly bears, mountain lions, that sort of thing,” Kyra said matter-of-factly.
Lord Cassin gave her a perplexed look. “…really?”
Kyra grinned. “Don’t worry, Uncle, I’ll tell you the whole story on our way back to Endra.”
_____
Those too wounded to walk of their own accord were loaded into a wagon. Rieu and Lift led them out of the cave, back into Thrain’s Pass. Taro expected them to send him and the others on their way once they were outside, but instead they left their hands bound and walked them at a snail’s pace through the rest of the pass.
Not far into their walk, Lord Cassin spoke up. “Wait,” he said. “What about our equipment? And the rest of our horses?”
“They’re ours now,” Rieu said sharply.
“Pitch told you to give us our horses back,” Taro said.
“Hang Pitch,” Rieu countered. “We’ll put the horses to good use, and we need all the equipment we can get these days.” He shook the pack flung over his back. “We’ll let the princess and her friends have their weapons back, that’s more than generous. Be happy Pitch is naive enough to let you leave in the first place.”
Lift nodded. “It does seem a bit odd. If we just offed them, there’s no way the Magisterium could track it back to us, right?”
“That’s what I’m sayin’! But you know Pitch, she’s got a soft spot for the Magisterium that I’ll never understand.”
“She?” Taro asked. “Pitch is a girl?”
“Pitch is a lady,” Rieu corrected. “Too soft to do what needs to be done, I suppose.”
There was a long bout of silence as they walked, and though Taro couldn’t see Rieu or Lift, he could hear them speaking to each other in hushed tones. Taro moved closer to Lokír and Kyra, far enough ahead of their captors so that he could whisper without being heard.
“We need to get out of these restraints,” Taro said, sounding a bit frantic, but trying to keep his voice low. “They’re not going to let us go.”
Lokír gave a grim frown. “I agree. When we’re far enough for our screams not to reach their hideout, they will strike. We should strike first.”
“And if they’re not going to try to kill us?” Kyra asked.
“They are,” Lokír said simply.
“How do you know?” Kyra asked.
“Their voices. Their stance. The way they walk. When one is expecting a fight, one moves differently,” Lokír said.
“Fine,” Kyra said reluctantly. “But remember, Rieu’s powerful.”
“Believe me, I know.” Taro’s chest still stung, and the red mark on his hand burned incessantly.
“What do we have?” Kyra asked.
“If we can get our weapons back?” Taro asked. “Raethelas, my walking stick, an axe, three swords between the four of us. And Kurian, wherever he is.”
“He’s close,” Kyra said.
“Did you see him?” Taro asked.
Kyra shook her head. “No, but I know him. He wouldn’t leave us. He’s watching, probably afraid if he attacks, Rieu will hurt us. We need to give him an opening.”
“Our first priority is to get our weapons,” Lokír said, then looked on ahead. The dirt road split into two paths: one went toward Helia, and the other led deeper into the mountains. “When we reach that fork, we attack. We can use the cliff between the paths as cover.”
“Lokír and I will take Rieu, and try to knock our weapons free,” Kyra said.
“Me and Fenn will take Lift,” Taro said. “Pass it on to your uncle. We’re getting close.”
As the fork in the path neared, Taro tensed up. The wound on his chest and hand hurt so much, it almost drowned out the pain of his prosthetic. A moment passed, and as the group came to the foot of the sheer cliff that separated the paths, Kyra shouted, “Now!”
With the element of surprise on their side, they stood a fighting chance. Even without templary, Lokír was a brute of a man, and when he landed a direct hit on Rieu’s jaw, there was an audible crack as the man spun into the dirt.
Lift was more prepared, and when Taro and Fenn swung at him, he dodged them effortlessly. Taro swung his staff, punched and kicked, but nothing got anywhere near the man.
In the commotion, Rieu lost the pack with their weapons, and Kyra snatched it from the ground and was rummaging through it. She retrieved her sword, and tossed the other weapons to the rest of the group.
Taro caught Raethelas in the air, and held it forward just
as Lift was coming in for the attack.
“Down!” Taro shouted, funneling his templar into the weapon.
Lift hesitated, shook, and his legs bent until he was on his knees. Taro knew the magic wouldn’t hold for long, and swung his walking stick at Lift’s head, striking him with a loud thump. Fenn moved on top of the man, grabbing his neck and savaging him with a round of punches to the face and chest.
Rieu recovered quickly, and when Lokír came at him with his axe, he summoned enough templar to grab the steel axe head in the air and crush it with his bare fingers. The cuts on his hands glowed, and the steel melted when it contacted his flesh.
Bits of melted steel ran down his fingers and onto the ground. Rieu smacked Lokír hard, and the huge man tumbled into a rock face.
Lord Cassin’s men charged him, causing Rieu’s true viciousness to be on display. At first, the soldiers swarmed him, but with a single touch, Rieu was able to burn out two of the men’s throats. Seeing what happened to their friends, the rest of the soldiers backed away in fear.
Kyra, however, held her sword up, and charged Rieu in a howling blur of speed. She grazed him with her blade, but he moved quickly aside, getting out of the fray with little more than a cut on the arm.
Kyra switched strategies, and removed several sharp bits of metal from her uniform pocket. Each was inscribed with magistry runes, and she tossed them in front of her, using her templar to guide them through the air. The blades danced and twirled above the ground, and when she extended her arm, they flew in Rieu’s direction.
Rieu didn’t try to dodge them. Instead, he held out one hand, focused, and the blades stopped mere inches from his fingertips. A moment passed as the two magisters pitted their templars against one another. Rieu won out, however, and the blades melted.
Both were sweating and panting, but Rieu wore a hard smile on his scarred face. “I am the most powerful magister in the world,” he shouted, spite thick in his voice. He held out his right hand, and it ignited in a burst of fire. The flames hovered just over his skin, as if his hand were the wick of a candle.
