Authors: David A. Wells
Alexander smiled with a shrug. “Magic. I looked inside the keep and found where they’re sleeping. If we’re quick, we can hit them before they know what happened and leave the entire province and the enemy army without leadership. The confusion should buy us the time we need to commandeer a ship and make our way to the island.”
Conner blinked a few times and shook his head. “I won’t pretend to understand how you can know these things, but I’ll take your word for it. How do you plan to get into the keep?”
Alexander drew the Thinblade and carefully pushed into the wall of the keep at an angle. He made three cuts in the stone.
“Anatoly, I need you to hold this block of stone in place and then let it down quietly when it breaks free.”
The big man-at-arms stepped up to the section of wall and held it while Alexander made the last cut. Anatoly carefully lowered a large piece of stone the shape of a pyramid to the ground. It took several minutes for Alexander and Anatoly to remove sections of the stone wall until there was an opening big enough for even Boaberous to crawl through.
The passageway they entered was dark and dank. Water dripped from the ceiling to form little pools on the floor before it could drain between the cracks.
“I’ve seen my father use the Thinblade in battle only twice,” Conner said. “I knew it was powerful but I had no idea until today what it’s truly capable of.”
Alexander nodded knowingly.
“What’s the plan?” Anatoly asked quietly.
“We go to the wizard first,” Alexander said. “Once he’s dead, we’ll make our way to the Governor’s quarters and kill him and the general, then out to the docks and onto one of those merchant ships. I’d like to avoid a pitched battle if possible and be gone before anyone knows what happened.”
Conner looked a little uncomfortable with the plan. He started to voice his concern but stopped himself.
“Say what you have to say,” Alexander said.
“I don’t feel right killing people in their sleep,” Conner said. “Taking a life in battle is one thing, but this feels more like assassination.”
Alexander nodded. “That’s because it
is
assassination. These people have come to your home and abducted your sister. They’ve landed an invasion force and are planning to make war on your people. They’ve forfeited their right to live under the Old Law. We are at war with them and it doesn’t matter how they die so long as they do. Make no mistake, Conner, there is no glory in war. It’s ugly and sad, nothing more. Our duty is to end this conflict as quickly as possible by killing those who started it. How we kill them doesn’t matter.”
Conner frowned and nodded. “I’ve spent my life studying warfare. I’ve read a hundred books about battles of the past. The writers of those books all try to romanticize it and make it seem so noble and honorable. I never thought it would be like this.”
“Remember the truth of it, Conner,” Alexander said. “One day you will wield the Thinblade of Ithilian and the decision to go to war for your people will be yours. Remember for every day that you draw breath that war is the ugliest thing humanity ever invented. Avoid it if you can, but not at the cost of the lives and liberty of the people you’re sworn to protect. If you must wage war, be ruthless and without mercy for those who brought war into your home.”
Anatoly nodded silently.
Jack was taking notes in his head again.
They moved quietly through the lower halls of the keep. It was dark and quiet. No one came down into the bowels of the keep if they could help it. Alexander kept his vial of night-wisp dust partially covered to limit the amount of light it produced. After several flights of stairs and a few wrong turns, they came to a level of the keep with oil lamps burning in their wall sconces. They redoubled their caution.
Alexander led the way with his companions following in single file. They rounded a corner into a hall leading to the wizard’s study and Alexander stopped. He motioned to the door two dozen feet down the hall and carefully drew the Thinblade. Everyone else followed suit and armed themselves. Jack tossed up his hood and flickered out of sight. Lucky produced a shatter vial filled with a pinkish-looking liquid from his bag.
They slowly crept up to the door. Just a few steps away, Alexander felt the tingle of magic race over his skin. He knew instinctively that the wizard had been alerted to their presence so he closed the last few steps quickly and sliced vertically through the door even as his second sight registered the faint aura of magic surrounding the heavy oak door. A moment later the door detonated outward toward Alexander, spreading a shock wave of magical energy racing both directions down the passageway.
Alexander was blown across the hall into the far wall. He fell to the floor with a thud and couldn’t move. It was as if his body simply couldn’t hear his mind. He tried to move, tried to regain his feet but he couldn’t make his arms and legs respond. With his all around sight, he saw the wizard standing in his study facing the open doorway with a look of recognition and happy surprise. Alexander shifted his sight to his friends and found them all standing stone-still where they’d been when the door detonated, all except Jack who hadn’t yet rounded the corner into the passage.
“I must say, I didn’t expect this,” the wizard said. “Prince Phane said you were unpredictable and resourceful but I never imagined you’d come to kill me. It’s almost flattering. I’m sure he’ll be most pleased when I present him your head.” He sauntered confidently out into the hallway and his smile broadened when he saw Jataan standing frozen in place.
“Ah, General Commander Jataan P’Tal, Prince Phane was most unhappy with your betrayal. I’m quite sure you will die badly, but then I am equally certain that I will be handsomely rewarded for delivering you to face justice for your crimes.
“What’s that? Oh, that’s right, you can’t speak,” he said chuckling. “I’m rather proud of this spell, although I never imagined it would ensnare such valuable prey. I can’t tell you how long I worked on it to get just the right effect. Sadly, the first few attempts killed my test subjects, but their sacrifice was more than worth it. You are much more valuable alive than dead. I’m quite sure Prince Phane will enjoy your, um, interrogation,” he chortled.
“Don’t fret now, the effects of the spell will keep you paralyzed for an hour or so,” he said as he strolled down the hall. “More than enough time for me to summon a platoon of soldiers and slap you in chains.”
Chapter 20
Isabel’s soul slipped free of her body to defend against the dissolution of existence that she would have faced had she become lost in the firmament. The world around her looked strangely translucent, as if the walls and objects had less substance than before. With a sudden shock she realized that her soul was in the aether, the place that separated the world of time and substance from the netherworld and the realm of light.
She looked down at her lifeless body. It couldn’t end this way. She couldn’t die. Not because she loved her own life, though she did, but because there were others who would suffer if she died. She couldn’t let that happen.
A passage opened to the realm of light and she felt a strange tug toward it. It was gentle and reassuring, beckoning her to a place of safety.
Then she thought of Alexander and pulled back with an effort of will. She couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t acceptable. There had to be another way.
Isabel frantically reached out to the light and drew it to her. To her amazement, it obeyed. A cloud of white light floated to her disembodied soul and enveloped her with its power. She focused on her body and moved her soul and the light back to her lifeless self.
A moment passed and then there was darkness. She gasped as the pain slammed back into her. She was back in her body, pain coursing through her. This time she was more determined than ever. She called forth the anger she had worked so hard to nurture and control. It came with an effort at first but the more she focused on it, the greater it grew until she was able to sit up out of sheer spite.
She took another breath and opened her eyes. The pain ebbed briefly before it slammed back into her with renewed intensity, but she met it with growing fury. She focused on her anger, fed it until it overshadowed the pain.
With a fierce battle cry, she gained her feet and steadied herself. She drew another breath and closed her eyes. Focusing on her fury, she embraced the pain and laughed at it, mocked it, challenged it to do its worst. It had already killed her—what more could it do?
After several hours of facing the pain and smothering it with her deliberate rage, it succumbed to her will and faded away, leaving her exhausted and elated at the same time. She collapsed onto the bed and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
As she began to wake the next morning, just before she was fully conscious, she saw the ocean of potential spread out before her, beckoning with its infinite possibility. It called to her with promises of rapture but she was wary of it and responded with sudden, all-encompassing love for Alexander. Her feelings overwhelmed the promise of rapture offered by the firmament and she woke with a connection to the source of creation intact and under her control.
Magda opened the door an hour later to find Isabel sitting cross-legged on her bed. With a word, Magda dispelled the magic circle and stepped up to Isabel, placing a hand on her forehead and muttering under her breath.
“You have succeeded,” she said with a guarded smile. “You will be ordained into the Reishi Coven tomorrow.” Magda’s expression turned deadly serious, sending a flutter of nervousness through Isabel. “I have grave news. Abigail has been injured.”
Isabel shot to her feet. “How?” she demanded urgently.
“She fell from her wyvern into the ocean,” Magda said. “Kallistos retrieved her from the water before she could be pulled under by the weight of her saddle and brought her to safety but she has not yet regained consciousness. It’s been three days.”
“Wait. Her saddle came free of Kallistos and she fell with it?” Isabel asked with a hint of anger.
“I’m afraid so,” Magda said. “Her saddle straps were cut so they would give under the stress of flight. Someone tried to kill her.”
“Who?” Isabel asked with deadly calm. Her blood ran cold and she restrained the fury that was building within her.
“The handler responsible for her saddle killed himself before we were able to question him,” Magda said. “We don’t know if he was working alone or with someone else.”
“Why would he want to kill Abigail?” Isabel asked. “Did he have any connection to any of the Sky Knights that fell in the battle that brought us here?”
“No. We’ve been unable to find any connection,” Magda said. “I assure you that our investigation is ongoing.”
“Take me to Abigail,” Isabel commanded.
Magda nodded and led her out of the room. Isabel’s mind raced as she walked through the halls of the fortress island. She kept coming back to Gabriella. There was no one else, except maybe Warrick.
Abigail was asleep in her bed, breathing deeply. If not for the lurid purple and yellow bruising all across her face and shoulders, she would have looked almost peaceful.
When Isabel entered, Mistress Lita stood from the chair at the side of the bed. Wren stirred from the chair in the corner of the room. When she saw Isabel, she started crying anew and rushed into her arms.
“I’ve been so worried about both of you,” Wren said through a sob. “Are you all right? Did you survive the mana fast?”
“I’m fine, Wren, save your worry for Abigail.”
The waifish girl looked up with a smile of relief even though her eyes were red and swollen from crying.
Isabel looked at her sister and a lump started to form in her throat. She swallowed hard and took a seat at the side of the bed. She looked up at Lita questioningly.
“She had several broken bones and significant bruising when Kallistos brought her to the hangar. Knight Raja said that her saddle came loose and she fell into the ocean from several hundred feet. We have mended her bones and are administering additional treatments to heal her bruising. She has not regained consciousness since she was injured.” Lita looked down at her sadly. “Isabel, she may never wake up. Such trauma can be fatal even if healing is administered.”
“Is there nothing else you can do?” Isabel asked.
“We have done all that is within our power,” Lita said. “All we can do now is wait and hope.”
“There may be something I can do,” Isabel said.
Magda frowned with concern. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Isabel said as she placed her hand on Abigail’s stomach and summoned feelings of love for her sister. She worked her feelings into a great intensity and then opened a connection to the firmament. The rapture called to her and tugged at her will, but the love she was feeling offset the draw of limitless possibility. She opened the portal to the realm of light and formed an image in her mind of the light of life flowing into her and through her hand into Abigail. With focused will and a clear image of the outcome she desired, as well as the mechanism for creating that outcome, Isabel released her vision into the firmament and commanded the firmament to obey.