Powers of the Six (41 page)

The moments after the king released his hold were always the most difficult. The revelation of what he’d done—and how willingly he’d completed the task—trampled Emery’s spirit. And worst of all, it never left. Emery shook his head, trying to dislodge the vivid memories, yet the images clung like a garish painting in his mind.

Soft sobs echoed from the king’s bedchamber. Megan. Alcandor’s power over her must be gone.

Emery longed to hold her and stroke her hair, to tell her everything would be all right. But it was a lie. Nothing was all right. He didn’t know what would happen to them; Garrick and Alec were proof that things could go terribly wrong.

“Hakan.” Emery’s voice barely croaked through his dry throat.

“Aye?”

“Is Alcandor sleeping?”

There was silence from his friend. Emery twisted, gagging on the metal band. He caught a brief glimpse of Hakan on the far wall. “Please, Hakan.”

Hakan sighed. “If his heart beats like that of a normal man, then he’s at rest.”

Maska stirred from sleep, though Emery couldn’t figure out how he could do it standing and bound.

“Is it daybreak?” Maska yawned.

“I believe so,” Emery said. “The servants are stirring. If it’s not morning, it will be soon.”

Maska’s dark eyes frowned. It was strange seeing his emotions, even though Emery had felt his anger for years. “What of Megan?”

“She’s alive and still in Alcandor’s chamber while he sleeps.”

Maska’s eyes glowed as he summoned his Strength. He pulled against the metal strap, his mouth opened in a silent, straining yell. It would be useless, of course. No one had broken the shackles and chains before. Emery froze when a small groan came from the strap.
By Brim’s light!
No one with the stones light had ever been locked in these chains.

Emery summoned his Shay, giving Maska encouragement. The metal creaked under the strain.
Maska can do this.
They could free themselves after all.

Then Maska’s Strength gave way. Pain spiked in Emery’s head as his Empathy slammed back into him.

King Alcandor stood before him, shirtless and barefoot, with his Empathy blazing. Maska stared into space under Alcandor’s spell. Emery surged his own Empathy, ready to clear Maska’s mind.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Alcandor said. “He is safe as he is. If you release him, then you’ll leave me no choice but to kill him.”

A guard came in. “You sent for me, Your Majesty?”

“My fair guest needs refreshments,” Alcandor said, motioning toward his bedchamber. “She worked hard last night.” His eyes never left Emery. “You will find her bound to my bed.”

Emery clenched his fists, blood pounding in his ears.

The soldier bowed. “As you wish.” He took a few steps toward the door.

“And Lieutenant.”

The man halted. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Tell the general I wish to see him. And …”

The man waited silently.

“ … If you touch her, you’ll wear the robes of the Dor’Jan.”

The man’s mouth opened and closed. Emery sensed the lowly soldier’s guilt and fear as he scurried from the room.

Alcandor stepped toward the silent Maska, and his eyes glowed purple. The corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile. “Remember, my dearest Emery, you determine his fate from this point on.”

The blank expression on Maska’s face disappeared, replaced by a moment of confusion, then a moment of rage. Then, just as suddenly, something else came over him. Maska grabbed the king’s dark hair and the back of his neck. For a moment, Emery thought Maska would strangle him. But instead, he yanked the king into a passionate kiss.

Emery turned away.
How could I let this happen? But what can I do? If I interfere, Alcandor will make Maska a Dor’Jan.

Alcandor broke free, and Maska shook his head, coming out of his daze. The king grabbed his wrists and slammed them against the wall over his head. The clatter of Maska’s chains echoed through the empty throne room.

Maska clenched his teeth, and a flurry of Talasian curse words flew from his lips. His face reddened as he strained against the king’s Strength.

“I told you, Emery,” King Alcandor said. “See his passion.”

Maska jerked his hands, trying to free them. “You call yourself a king. You hide behind your powers because you are too much of a coward to fight on your own.”

King Alcandor lifted his eyebrows. “I use my powers because they please me. And you are one to speak of such things as hiding, my warrior.”

“I’ll kill you!”

King Alcandor laughed and his Empathy glowed. Once again, Maska’s face fell blank.

Kael entered the room. His eyes darted to the scene with a nervous twitch. He cleared his throat. “Your Majesty? You summoned me?”

“General, I need a group of Strength users to complete a task. There is a wall of stone covering the dome to this throne room. It has been there for some time. I want the stones removed.”

Kael followed the king’s gaze to the ceiling, confusion lacing his emotions. “Certainly, Your Majesty. Will that be all?”

“Yes, General, that will be all for now.”

Kael bowed and left.

Alcandor touched Maska’s cheek, tracing his fingertips lightly over his sharp cheekbone. “And now, my intriguing savage, I want to see your true Talasian passions flow.”

***

Two Strength Rol’dan led Maska back to his place at the wall. Emery sensed both his shame and relief to be in bondage after the long day. The meager light of evening poured through the new opening in the domed ceiling, the removal of the stones now complete. Silence greeted them in what was left of the day, all except for Maska’s escorts who laughed and walked to the king’s chambers, pausing and nudging one another before reentering.

“What happened?” Hakan blurted as soon as they left.

Maska didn’t answer, turning his head away.

“Did you see Megan?” Emery asked softly. “Is she well?”

Sorrow and regret clung thick on his emotions. “I saw her. She is as well as can be expected.”

The soldiers returned with Megan between them. She was dressed in a silken blue nightgown with thin straps that threatened to fall down her sagging shoulders. Her tear-stained eyes met Emery’s with such anguish it made his heart sink. Megan pulled her eyes from him to Maska, and then she flushed and turned away.

“She is supposed to go with the rest of them,” said the taller of the guards.

“Are you sure?” the other guard said. He licked his lips.

“Aye. And you’ll do as you’re told if you know what’s best for you.”

They pushed her against the wall near Hakan. Megan neither struggled nor complained, even when the shorter of the guards slid his greedy hand over her before the other smacked him away.

“I told you, leave her be.”

The shorter guard grunted. “It’s a waste, it is. Why isn’t the king letting us have a go this time?”

“Perhaps he has other plans. It’s none of our business.”

Megan ignored the argument. Emery, on the other hand, had the urge to run them both through. If he could control their arms, they’d already be impaled on their own swords. Then an idea touched his mind. But it was so sinister. He wouldn’t allow himself to—

“Ah, come on,” the shorter guard said. “I’ll let you go first.”

Emery’s rage swelled. He summoned his Shay and thrust his anger into their minds.

“I said, get your filthy paws off her. If anyone should have a go, it most certainly wouldn’t be an ugly dog, like you.”

“What did you call me?”

The taller man leaned over the other. “You heard me.”

The shorter man lunged and threw the other against a pillar with his Strength. Ancient plaster sprinkled on their heads.

Emery increased his Shay, pushing them further.

“I’ll rip out your tongue!”

“Not if you’re dead, then you can rot in the Darkness.”

They tumbled away from the pillar and slammed onto the floor. The taller man bashed the other’s head against the ground, the stones cracking under him. The shorter man sent forth a burst of Strength and flung him across the room, missing the throne by a hand’s width.

The taller man let loose a roar of anger. He took a step forward, and then Kael appeared—seemingly from nowhere—and pressed his sword at the stunned guard’s throat.

The man swallowed. “G-general?”

“What’s going on here?”

“I don’t know, sir. He just came at me.”

Emery pushed anger further.

“It’s none of your business, Trividar,” spat the shorter man. He yanked a mace from the wall behind the throne and stormed toward Kael. Before he took four steps, he stopped with Kael’s sword in his chest, all the way to the hilt. The soldier gave a few gagging gasps and collapsed to the ground, dead.

Emery switched his power to Kael, pushing hate. Kael yanked his sword out and stomped toward the other man, eyes bulging and nostrils flaring.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the man as he cowered by the throne. “Please …”

In a gust of wind, both Kael and the king materialized next to Emery. Their sudden appearance broke Emery’s concentration. Alcandor pushed Kael against the wall, his hand clenching Kael’s throat. He studied him, glanced at Emery, and let go.

Kael gulped in air. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Oh, I do,” Alcandor said. “I am surprised and—I must admit—a bit impressed. I haven’t seen one with that ability in quite some time. Even when all were in the stones’ light, it was a rare gift. And to use it in such a manner …” He clicked his tongue. “It is unlike you, Emery.”

Emery’s anger rose again, this time at himself.

“So, Emery.” The king traced Emery’s cheekbone with his finger and leaned in so his lips nearly touched his neck. He inhaled deeply and exhaled in a slow, open-mouthed breath. “What can I expect of our future? You and your friends are traitors. I
should
kill you all. But for you, Emery, I might reconsider.”

Emery jerked away. “I’d rather die than get in your bed again.”

The corner of Alcandor’s mouth twitched. “Oh no, Emery. You won’t die. I’ll bring your band of traitors in, one by one, and torture them. Perhaps when they wander in the night, searching for their souls, you will finally realize there is no other choice … but me.”

Alcandor strode to his throne, sat, and pulled a golden box from the drawer of a side table. “General, come here.”

Kael straightened his tunic with shaking hands and approached the throne, taking care to walk around the dead soldier before bowing low. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“There are several recesses in the metal framework above our heads. Place this stone in one of them. It matters not which.”

Kael hesitated then took the stone. “As you wish.” He bowed once and was gone.

King Alcandor sighed and leaned back in his throne to study the empty box. He smiled faintly. “I thought it would be difficult to retrieve the other stones, considering this Nolan fellow killed my Speed Rol’dan. But to my surprise, the stones are coming to me.”

Emery’s heart stopped.
Why would Nolan bring them here?

“Why indeed would he bring them so close to Faylinn?” Alcandor answered. “He must know I could feel the stones. Perhaps he means to trade them for your pathetic lives.” He put the jeweled box on the table next to him. “Maybe he
wants
me to find him.”

Alcandor stood and walked directly to Hakan. With a flick of his hand, he unlatched and opened the band around Hakan’s throat. He grabbed Hakan by the beard and pulled him forward.

Hakan didn’t respond; he only stared off, once again in the king’s power.

“As impressed as I was with your skills, my dear Emery,” Alcandor said. “I’m afraid you will have to pay.”

Emery’s heart thundered. “Then make
me
pay. Leave him alone.”

Alcandor chuckled, leading Hakan to the center of the throne room. “As I said, Emery. One by one.” Before Emery could cry out, Alcandor rammed his dagger under Hakan’s ribs.

A spout of Talasian curse words flew from Maska, and Megan turned her head to sob.

Please, Brim, not like this
, Emery prayed. The king was right. This was far worse than death.

King Alcandor threw Hakan to the ground and released his mental hold. Hakan clawed at his chest as blood gushed from the wound.

A crack of thunder sounded outside. The king looked up through the open dome.

Another crash erupted. This time it sounded nothing like thunder, but more like a part of the castle had given way. Alcandor’s eyes glowed orange, then annoyance passed over his face.

A third booming crash sounded; Kael appeared with Speed.

“Your Majesty,” Kael said. “There is a Strength user throwing boulders at our southern wall.”

“He must be mad,” Alcandor said.