Her Father's Fugitive Throne

by Brandon Barr

  ARENTISS

  Arentiss ran down the path to the portal, the dimming light making the journey difficult. From the top of the sloping terrain, she’d seen Winter with a man, down at the cliff. Her warning shouts had gone unheard, carried away by the wind and drowned out by the waves pounding against the granite cliffs.

  Arentiss wasn’t certain what she’d do once she reached Winter. Likely the man called Galthess would be carrying a weapon, but if she could intervene before he drew it, she hypothesized that he would delay his plan to murder until he could get Winter alone again.

  Arentiss grew alarmed as Winter moved closer the portal. She appeared poised to go through. Arentiss slid to a stop on the loose rocks and shouted again, but too late.

  Winter stepped through and disappeared. On her heels was Galthess.

  Arentiss started to sprint forward again, then halted. She had no chance of reaching the portal in time to catch Winter’s wake.

  There was nothing she could do. Winter was on her own.

  Arentiss turned and ran back to the hidden entrance of the facility. Hark appeared at the top of the hill. He waved both arms at her as she sprinted up the path.

  “Where’s Winter?” he shouted.

  “She went through the portal—and her assassin followed in her wake. I couldn’t get near enough in time to warn her.”

  She glanced at the open hatch. “Did you tie him up?”

  “Yeah, his name is Theurg. He’s not going anywhere. He told me he’s with some special order called the Consecrators and claimed their mission was authorized.”

  Arentiss frowned. “I don’t know why his subgroup within the Guardians matters…unless he believes the murder was sanctioned.”

  Hark shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

  “Few things qualify as impossible, Hark. We need to find Karience. She can pursue the matter through Higelion.”

  “Karience is with Damien. Shouldn’t we wait for her to return?”

  Arentiss glanced back down at the portal. “No, she needs to be informed now.”

  RUEIK

  Rueik rounded a corner. The walkway ended at the door to Damien’s domicile. A young boy scurried from torch to torch, adding pitch from his bucket to the flues. Rueik backed around the corner, waiting in the shadows until the boy finished his task and walked away.

  Rueik pulled a thick black glove over his right hand and pushed a small button woven into the palm. A dim red light flashed, signaling the glove was now armed. It was an expensive piece of equipment his master had purchased from the mercenaries on Hearth. Expensive, but well worth the cost.

  Rueik looked around. There could be no witnesses to what he was about to do. No one could suspect an intruder. There could be no sign that he was here.

  Which meant that he couldn’t break in through the front door. He’d have to go in through a window. Unfortunately, this residence had been well-designed to protect against thieves and intruders. The only windows into Damien’s domicile were past the end of the walkway. Getting to them meant risking a long fall to the rocks below. Only the truly desperate would dare such a risky undertaking…or a well-trained Shadowman.

  Rueik jumped up and grabbed one of the wooden beams supporting the roof. From there, he swung to the next beam. He was now hanging over nothingness. Trying not to think about what the consequences would be if he lost his grip, he swung and grabbed onto the next beam, then the next.

  Rueik stopped at the first window and peered inside. There were two servants in the room beyond, so he continued on. The beams were rough and left splinters in his bare hand, but he ignored the small pain. It was nothing compared to the agony he’d endured in the training sessions under Isolaug. Those were the true tests. And he had slaughtered his way to the very top to earn his chance at becoming a Shadowman within the Guardian order.

  Next up were two long windows glowing with faint candlelight. It was a dining room. Two partially-eaten plates of food and two empty wine glasses rested on the tabletop, but the room was empty.

  Had Karience already met with the prince and left?

  He activated the cutting tool in his glove and made a circle on the glass big enough to put his arm through. The circle of glass wiggled loose in his hand.

  Reaching in, he unlocked the window, opened it, and swung inside the domicile. Faint voices came from an open doorway to his right. It sounded like servants. He placed the circle of glass back into the hole in the window, and then reattached it using the glove’s thermal array.

  He stepped lightly to the door and slowly opened it. The hallway beyond was empty. He passed through the doorway as quiet as a shadow and closed the door behind him quietly. Stairs ran up to the next floor. He had no other choice but to search the house. If Karience was gone, his plans would change fast.

  At the top of the stairs, his concern eased. Karience’s voice echoed softly in the hallway. Rueik stalked quietly toward the sound, passing open rooms filled with darkness until he reached a closed door with light glowing faintly around the edges.

  With a soft touch, he opened the door.

  Inside was a library with a desk in the middle, the walls lined with filled bookshelves. Two figures stood by double doors that opened onto a balcony, each holding a glass. A small table held two empty plates.

  Rueik cleared his throat. “I apologize for interrupting.”

  “Rueik, what are you doing here?” said Karience, turning toward him. She didn’t seem perturbed, only concerned.

  Damien scowled. “Why are you dressed like a courier?”

  Rueik walked toward Damien. “I wanted to meet the opposition leader. I missed my opportunity at the Hall of Discourse.” Rueik extended his gloved hand, and Damien took it with a curious expression on his face.

  He suddenly jerked his hand away and grimaced. “You must have some glass stuck in your glove.” He clenched his teeth as he held his injured hand. “I’m bleeding.”

  Rueik glanced at Karience. Her face was like stone. Questions passed like clouds through her eyes.

  “What are you doing, Rueik?” she asked tonelessly.

  Damien sank to the floor with a whimper. “What’s happening to me?” he blubbered, his tongue growing numb from the poison.

  Rueik withdrew the miniature crossbow from his courier pouch. Karience stared at him with a mixture of anger and fear.

  “It was you all along,” said Karience with a tremor in her voice. “You made the story up about Zoecara.”

  “Only in part,” said Rueik. “Zoecara’s hands were as dirty as mine. She served a Beast, but she didn’t know I did as well.” He gestured to the crumpled form on the floor. “I want you to lift Damien up and set him in his chair.”

  He saw defiance flare in Karience’s eyes, but her rebellion bowed to reason as her gaze came to rest on the weapon in his hands. With an effort, she hefted Damien and sat him at the table.

  “Push his plate away and then spill the wine on the floor.”

  Karience complied slowly, as if her attention was consumed by possible avenues of escape. Or perhaps she was only trying to delay the inevitable end she sensed was coming. Finally, the Empyrean laid the bottle on the floor and the dark red liquid sloshed onto the embroidered rug.

  “What have you done to him?” she asked.

  “The young prince?” began Rueik, “I pricked him with a drop of black hemlock oil. It’s fatal—as you probably know. And now you, Karience,” he took a slow step toward her. “When the Loamian authorities arrive, you’ll be a sniveling, incoherent mess.”

  With the crossbow held steady in his right hand, he reached into the satchel with his left and withdrew the mind probe. “I’m going to tinker with your mind, Karience.”

  He saw the fear register on her face, her eyes held captive by the objects in his hands. But what she didn’t know was that the probe and the crossbow were only diversions. The glove he wore was what he would incapacitate her with. Then he’d put the probe to work.

  “Y
ou’re not going to get away with this,” she whispered, stepping back toward the balcony. “They’ll smell treachery.”

  He sneered. “I hear the doubt in your voice. To the Royals, you’ll be a murderer. You killed their mighty Prince Damien. And in the eyes of the Guardians, you’ll simply be a mediocre Empyrean who snapped when the pressure grew too great. Your death will ensure the end of the charter. The Guardians will be forced to leave.” Rueik raised the crossbow. “Despite all your effort, Loam will fall to my master. I win.”

  Karience’s eyes shifted to the door.

  Before Rueik could turn, a pair of arms wrapped around his chest, and he dropped the crossbow and mind probe. Rueik threw his head back, smashing the back of his head into his attacker’s face. The grip around him faltered, and Rueik spun, drawing a crossbow bolt from his satchel. It was Hark. One of Hark’s big hands grabbed Rueik’s shirt and the other drew back to strike him. But Rueik brought the bolt up and drove it into Hark’s temple. Hark fell forward, grabbing onto Rueik and pulling him to the floor as he died.

  Rueik pushed Hark away from and looked up to see Karience standing there, the crossbow in her hands. Beside her stood Arentiss.

  “Shoot him!” yelled Arentiss.

  Rueik rolled to the side as he heard the snap of the crossbow firing. Pain seared his arm as the bolt went through his bicep, the pointing driving into the wood, pinning him to the floor. Snarling like a wolf, he twisted, the motion pulling the bolt free from the floor.

  “Run!” shouted Karience, dropping the crossbow. Both women sprang for the door. Rueik lunged at Karience. His fingers brushed against her Guardian uniform but caught only air as she made it into the hallway. With a groan of pain, he tore the bolt out of his shoulder. He bent and picked up the crossbow. Shaking, he loaded the blood-slicked bolt into the crossbow.

  Then he ran after them.

  Killing Karience and Arentiss was now a desperate need. If they escaped, all could be ruined.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  ARENTISS

  “Hide!” screamed Karience at a man in butler’s attire and a woman with an apron over her dress who emerged from a doorway, drawn by the commotion. “He’ll kill you!”

  The two servants stared in confusion as Arentiss and Karience rushed past them to the entrance. The logical part of Arentiss’ mind wondered if Karience was right. Would Rueik trouble to stop and kill the servants? It seemed more plausible he would pursue her and Karience.

  “I don’t think Rueik will bother with them,” called Arentiss. “If he did, he’d lose us.”

  “Just run,” shouted Karience as she pulled the door open and motioned Arentiss out onto the outside walkway, then followed her through.

  Arentiss ran. She’d always felt pride in her speed and endurance levels. Years of daily routine and practice had honed her muscles and stamina. When she reached the main stairs leading down, she paused and looked back. Karience was just coming into view around a corner. Arentiss came to a stop. She’d have to slow down. She didn’t want to leave Karience behind.

  “We’ve got to get to the portal,” said Karience as she neared. “If only the damn Shield Force were still here!”

  Arentiss looked beyond Karience and saw Rueik’s face briefly lit in the glare of a torch.

  Karience nearly crashed into Arentiss as she started down the stairs. Arentiss descended swiftly after her. At this pace, she knew they wouldn’t get far. Rueik was gaining on them.

  “We have to get to the bottom of the stairs,” said Arentiss. “The guards might slow him down.”

  “I had the same thought,” panted Karience.

  As they reached the second level, Arentiss heard footsteps on the level above. Rueik would be anticipating the guards at the base of the stairs, but it was they who were dressed in Guardian attire, not him.

  The moment Karience turned down the last flight of stairs, she started to shout for help. Arentiss looked back and saw Rueik’s shadowed outline move onto the same flight they were on. She and Karience reached the bottom, Karience still calling for help. Two guards rushed in their direction.

  “He’s trying to kill us!” shouted Karience as the two women ran past the guards.

  One guard shouted a command to the other. Arentiss looked over her shoulder in time to see Rueik kick one guard in the face as the second guard pulled out a sword.

  Arentiss tried to gauge her emotions. Hark, a man she knew and trusted, was dead at the hands of someone she had thought a friend. She felt a mote of betrayal, but much stronger, was something akin to terror. That someone she’d bantered with was not at all who she thought he was.

  Keeping close behind Karience, she noted how fear was sharpening her observations. She imagined her limbic system pumping like an Arsaotic fleet engine, priming her adrenal glands to pump her full of adrenaline. Her legs longed to sprint at full speed, but Karience needed her.

  The four guards manning the gate came running toward them as they drew near. Arentiss glanced back again.

  Rueik was so close she could see murder in his eyes. And now he held a bloodied sword in his hand.

  The four guards drew their swords as Arentiss and Karience passed them. Arentiss scanned the dark street as she followed Karience through the gate. Running wasn’t going to save the Empyrean. And she felt splitting up would ensure the Karience’s death.

  The street was largely deserted, all the businesses closed for the night. A handful servants were entering or departing the palisades, and several merchant wagons were rolling down the street away from them.

  “Follow me,” said Arentiss, running toward the caravan.

  “What are you doing?” shouted Karience.

  Arentiss shouted back over her shoulder, “Getting us a horse!”

  The soles of her shoes grated against the cobblestone street. Two merchants were riding at the rear of the small caravan, following a cart loaded with barrels. Arentiss ran up alongside one of the riders, who turned at the sound of her footsteps.

  “Careful!” the woman snapped. “You’ll startle the horses!”

  Without replying, Arentiss reached up, grabbed the woman’s arm and yanked her from the horse. The woman screamed as she fell. Arentiss jumped into the saddle and turned the horse around. She kicked the horse and galloped back to Karience.

  “Climb on!” commanded Arentiss.

  Karience took her hand and Arentiss pulled her up. Shouts rang out in several directions. Arentiss saw two guards with drawn swords running toward them, and behind them was the hooded figure of Rueik.

  “There,” said Karience, “down that alley way!”

  Arentiss reined the horse that way, knowing her skills at horsemanship were mediocre at best. If she hadn’t lived on Loam as long as she had, she wouldn’t have known how to ride at all.

  The alley angled to the right. “How do we get out of here?” asked Arentiss. “We need to go left, toward the portal.”

  She slowed the horse for a moment…long enough to hear the pounding of horse hooves behind them in the alley.

  “Keep going,” said Karience. “There will be a street.”

  They raced down the alley. The walls were lined with shuttered windows, some faintly glowing with candlelight from within. She strained to see an exit, but the buildings were built up against each other, no gaps between them. Then she saw it up ahead: a large dark patch between two buildings.

  It was another alley, one that would send them toward the portal.

  Arentiss turned the horse, and they raced down the narrow, starlit lane.

  “There’s something I have to tell you regarding Winter,” said Arentiss. “I overheard one of the two guests talking over the vid screen in the conference room. It was Theurg. He was discussing a plot to kill Winter. The second guest, Galthess, he’s the assassin.”

  Arentiss felt Karience’s grip around her waist tighten. “That’s why they came here! Damn the Consecrators.”

  “I thought it might be the Execrata…I tried to war
n Winter, but she went through the portal.”

  “Did she go alone?”

  Ahead, the alley opened again into the main street.

  “No. Galthess followed her through.”

  “She’s in the hands of the gods then.”

  Arentiss frowned. She’d never heard the Empyrean speak of fate or the gods. Also odd was the way she’d spoken those words, not with resignation, but calmly, as if she were reassuring herself.

  Arentiss turned the horse onto the next street they came to. The animal was slowing, already tiring, but she urged it on. It wasn’t too far now to the portal. Once she was sure they had left Rueik behind, then she could let the horse breathe a little.

  “Theurg is tied up somewhere in the facility. Only Hark knew where.”

  “He can rot there for all I care,” said Karience.

  A twang sounded from the shadows on the side of the street. The horse reared, a quarrel striking its neck. Arentiss tried to grab the pommel but was thrown to the side as the horse collapsed onto the ground. She hit the road hard, rolling across the dirt. Shakily, she regained her feet, wary that she might have suffered some injury. She peered around in the dark for Karience. The horse whinnied in pain, flailing upon the ground.

  Arentiss was certain of one thing. It was Rueik who had shot the horse. Which meant that it had been someone else chasing them down the alley. Rueik had gone on ahead to cut them off from the portal. But how? Had he stolen a horse?

  “She’s right here,” came Rueik’s voice.

  Arentiss saw his hooded shadow rise on the opposite side of the dying horse. At his feet was Karience, a sword poised at her throat.

  “Run,” said Karience, her breaths shallow.

  Arentiss took two steps toward the road to the portal, her eyes fixed on the darkened face under the hood. “Let her go, Rueik.”

  “I’ll let her go on one condition. You start walking the other way. Back toward the alley.”

  “Don’t trust him,” said Karience. “He’s a Shadowman.”

  Arentiss took another step toward the portal.