Questing Sucks! Book II (59 page)

“If your father knew that you were a willing servant, Ammecia, he would die a second death.”

“Mind your manners, butterfly. You are angering the wrong woman.”

As she and the four High-Mages finally entered far enough into the room so that they stood in front of Cah’lia, she got a good look at each of them. The woman who Orellia called Ammecia stood out among them, as she did not wear a robe like the others. She alone wore a suit of silver armor and carried a golden sword at her hip.

“Is this how far you’ve fallen?” Orellia asked her. “He would be so disappointed in you.”

With a grunt, Ammecia marched up to Orellia and struck her in the mouth with the back of her hand. “Your job now is to die, not speak. Don’t make me have to remind you of that.” She turned her body so that she faced the Archmage. “Can we take them now, Lord Duncan?”

Lord?
Cah’lia thought, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Yes, my dear. Bring them to the city square. And make sure you ring the bells. I want a good showing now, do you understand? Those who do not come in person should hear of it, so that they may tell others and through this the word is spread. Let’s not forget: a public execution is meaningless without a public.”

“Understood, Lord Duncan.”

Cah’lia felt hands around her shoulders, and then one of the High-Mages shoved her. Unable to move her feet properly, she lost her balance and fell over—only to be forced immediately back upright into a standing position. A moment later, the shackles around her ankles loosened somewhat.

“Walk,” a man’s voice said, again shoving her.

She resisted as best as she could, but it was hopeless.

“Walk!” he shouted. “Or you will lose an arm.”

With anger burning in her chest, Cah’lia realized that, for now, she needed to cooperate and hope an opportunity presented itself for her to escape. Until then, she had no choice but to march with Patrick, Kellar, Shina, and Mistress Orellia to wherever it was these men were taking them.

On her way out of the Hall of Governance, she noticed something that gave her the smallest bit of hope: the Champion was nowhere to be seen. She traced the path he would have taken, looking first at the broken section of the wall and then the area of the garden where the flowers were flattened as though a large man had taken a fall on top of them. His absence indicated he had gotten back to his feet and had managed to escape. This was good. If nothing else, he would be able to tell someone what had happened here. As far as who was left to tell, Cah’lia did not know. But at least their deaths stood some change of serving a meaningful purpose. Maybe, with any luck, he would even return later to free Sehn and the children.

“Walk,” the man’s voice said again. “And don’t stop.”

With terror rising inside her, Cah’lia obeyed his instructions and began the walk with the others towards wherever it was she was destined to watch her companions die. Would this be the last time she would see each of them alive? Would she now be forced to witness Shina’s death before her very eyes?

With all other options exhausted, she turned to prayer. Their plan to rescue Sehn had ended in a complete disaster, and they would suffer for it. Only the Gods could spare them now.

It seemed to be a recurring pattern these days that the world’s most beautiful sights presented themselves only during the most ill-fated of moments. The sky, which less than an hour earlier had been dim and cloudy, was now as clear and sunny as Cah’lia had ever seen it. The temperature had warmed as well, and there was a comfortable breeze in the air. Really, it all seemed like a cruel joke; here she was, in a magnificent city of magic that floated in the sky, and yet contrasting this marvel was the certainty that, very soon, she would be forced to watch her friends die for the entertainment of others. Then she’d be handed off to a sadistic, perverted, and decaying ghoul of a man who would likely make her suffer through unfathomable acts of torture.

I’ll fight,
she thought, bracing herself as a High-Mage shoved her yet again.
Somehow, through some means, I will find a way to die fighting!

“Keep moving,” the High-Mage ordered her, giving another ungentle push forward. “Slow down one more time and I’ll hurt you.”

For the greater part of the last hour, they had been made to march slowly through the city, where hundreds of eyes fell upon them on each street that they passed. Many even peered down at them from out of the windows in the impossibly tall buildings that Magia had constructed.

The city was unlike any other that Cah’lia had seen, and in more ways than just the abnormally crowded streets and the massive buildings, which gave her butterflies in her stomach just to look at. What also stuck out to her was the way so many cultures melted together. It was similar to the foreign trade district in Elvar, only it was not limited to just one small section of the city. Everywhere she looked, she saw an unusual amount of diversity.

Just off to her right was a door leading into the ground level of one of the buildings, and on the inside was a small dwarven workshop that sold children’s toys. But the next door down in the very same building led to a human-run bakery, where her nose caught the scent of traditional human desserts such as chocolate cake and blueberry pies. Across the street in the lowest level of the opposite building were four elven women selling custom-tailored dresses, and a bit farther down, there was even a jointly owned tavern where a human and an elf had gone into business together, something that Cah’lia could not recall ever having seen before.

“You’re slowing down,” one of the High-Mages grunted at Kellar.

“Yeah, and? Piss off.”

“Don’t make me hit you again, kid.”

“Go ahead. I didn’t even feel it the last time you—”

“Kellar,” Shina whispered. “Just do what he says. I’m okay now.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m okay. I promise.”

Shina had been sobbing uncontrollably since shortly after they’d left the Hall of Governance, and Kellar had suffered a black eye in his attempts to comfort her. Several times, they had ordered him to keep moving, and each time so far, he had ignored them. After his third refusal, one of the High-Mages had clobbered him in the face.

Orellia had not said a word during any of this—not even after seeing her pupils mistreated. She remained eerily silent and cooperative. Patrick, on the other hand, was quiet but not silent. He mumbled under his breath about how he should have known better than to “listen to those two.”

Bells had begun ringing infrequently over the past thirty minutes, likely to signal the coming execution. And as they continued to make their way towards the city square, it resumed once again, filling the air with its high-pitched chime.

Although they were most likely not intended to sound ominous or threatening, each time the bells rang, an unpleasant, disturbing sensation crept into Cah’lia’s stomach and knees. The sound reminded her that, with each step she took, she came just a little closer to seeing Shina, Orellia, Patrick, and Kellar executed, and she was utterly powerless to protect them or even herself. It hurt to know that the last thing they would see in this life would be an angry, hateful crowd cheering on their death—people entertained by their suffering.

“I don’t wanna die,” Shina said with a sniffle. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Oh, come on now,” one of the High-Mages said. He was an aging, scruffy-faced man who looked more like a retired soldier in robes than a genuine High-Mage. “Don’t start up with that, young lass. It’s…unnecessary.”

This only seemed to make her more upset. “But I don’t wanna die. Please don’t take me there.”

“Not my call. Just keep on moving and I won’t make this any more painful for you.”

“Please. Please!”

“Look, this isn’t my doing. I’ve got no quarrel with ya, girl. Begging me won’t change a thing.”

“B-but if I die, what will Pancake do without me?”

“Who or what is Pancake?” Ammecia asked.

“He’s my gryphon.”

“He is, is he?” She chuckled. “No worries, then. I’ll take good care of him for you.”

“Y-you will?”

“Sure I will. I’ll make sure your gryphon gets buried in a nice little patch of dirt after we put him to sleep.”

At this, the entire line of them had to stop, because Shina planted her feet into the ground, twisted her head to look at Ammecia,
then
said, “Put my Pancake to…to sleep? You’re…you’re going to put my Pancake to…to…
to sleep
!”

Something told Cah’lia she needed to back away as much as the slack between them allowed. It was probably the way Shina’s pupils turned from black to a bright royal blue. And while Cah’lia had no idea what that meant or what caused the change in color, she knew better than to ignore her instincts.

“Shina, no!” Orellia shouted out to her. “Don’t do what you’re thinking of d—”

She was too late. Shina’s sobs turned to grunts, and then her grunts became a loud hissing before finally settling on outright shrieks. Sparks began shooting from her ears and eyes, and Cah’lia watched, mystified, as the girl transformed herself into an elven ball of electricity. Lightning danced off every inch of her body, forming a cocoon around her, and she began struggling violently against her restraints.

Out of either anger or ignorance, Shina did not seem to understand that, because they had been chained together and forced to walk in a single-file line, the effect this would have would not be the one she intended.

Immediately, Cah’lia groaned as was what felt like a million volts was channeled through the chain linking them to each other and then directly into her. Orellia, Kellar, and Patrick all dropped down to their knees as they too were assaulted by the electricity; it flowed with increasing intensity through the chains and caused each of them to cry out in anguish. Their execution, it seemed, had begun ahead of schedule.

Of the four of them—not including Shina—Patrick appeared to get the worst of it. Rather than cry out in pain, he uttered a repeated, gibberish sound while he rocked his head back and forth. “
Buh vuh vuh vuh vuh vuh vuh vuh vuh vuh vuh
.”

If not for Ammecia slipping on a rubber glove and slapping Shina in the back of the head, apparently knocking some sense into her, Cah’lia was sure they would have died. At once, Shina stopped what she was doing, rubbed the back of her head, and began whispering apologies.

“Don’t even think of trying that again,” Ammecia told her. “I was only messing with you. I don’t care about your damn gryphon.”

Panting heavily, Cah’lia picked herself back up to her feet, as did the others. Patrick took a few seconds longer, but he seemed otherwise unhurt—just a bit frazzled. Despite coming back to her senses, it was clear just from the look in her eyes that Shina was still piping mad. Cah’lia prayed Ammecia did not provoke her into doing something like that a second time, especially since it was doubtful she would survive another bout of the girl’s electrified anger. Patrick definitely wouldn’t.

Shina gave Ammecia a dirty, hateful look. “If you hurt Pancake, I’ll…I’ll…”

“You’ll what, girl? What do you think you will do to me?”

In what may have been the most striking and revealing display of whose blood it was that ran through her veins, Shina lifted her chin, opened her mouth wide, and shouted, “If you hurt Pancake, I’ll rise from the dead on the back of a zombie Pancake and use my lightning magic to turn you into a fucking marshmallow! How
dare
you threaten my sweet gryphon? Just for that, I should zap you hard enough to make your boobs fall off!”

At this, even Patrick stopped what he was doing, opened his eyes wider, and gawked at her a moment with disbelief plain on his face. Given the state he’d been in when Cah’lia had gone to him a day and a half ago, it was not surprising he looked like he was seeing a ghost.

Ammecia, as though stunned, said nothing in reply to Shina for almost ten full seconds. Then, with a tilt of her head, she asked, “Just who do you think you are, girl? Who speaks that way to people?”

Shina did not answer her. Instead, she turned her back to the woman and waited for Patrick, who walked foremost in their line, to continue onwards. As a group, they resumed their march through the city, only this time without the High-Mages needing—or even getting the chance to—force them to move. Cah’lia wasn’t sure why, but it made her feel more dignified. If this was to be the end, then it was better to go out with their heads held high. She regretted that her own death would come later. If she was to die either way, then she wished she could leave this world together with her friends. Instead, unless a miracle came her way, she would find herself in a position where she would
beg
to die.

So once more, she prayed for a miracle.

Calen signaled for a halt while Saerith and Saerina rode up beside him. Saerith was clearly not happy with his decision to call for another stop, and as Calen expected he would, the elven prince made his displeasure well known.

“Is something the matter, Sword Calen?” Saerith asked him. In just a moment, he would likely begin demanding that Calen change his mind. This was how it had been since they’d departed from Hahl, and it made very little sense. Why did Saerith insist on him being in command in the first place if he was just going to second-guess every order and overrule anything he disagreed with? Wouldn’t it be better for the prince to just assume command of the forces himself? Clearly, he did not seem to trust Calen or his abilities and he showed no faith that Calen was competent enough to make wise decisions.

He is my prince
, Calen thought, mentally reprimanding himself for feeling even the tiniest hint of bitterness.
I am the one who serves him: not the other way around.

Still seated atop his dapple-gray stallion, Calen nodded at his prince then slid off the side of the horse. Patting the creature reassuringly on its nose, he walked in front of it then sat down on his knees to examine the ground before him.

“What is it?” Saerith asked.

“You don’t come around here much, do you?”

“Not exactly. My last trip to Elvar was…hmm, it’s been quite some time. Why, what is the matter?”

Calen pointed to a tiny green bulb that was just visible from where it was burrowed into the ground. “This is the problem.”

Saerith squinted his eyes, then grunted. “I don’t understand.”

“This.” Calen brought his finger closer to the small piece of greenery without daring to actually touch it.

“What of it?”

“It’s a Swing-Plant.”

“A what?”

“It’s…it’s a strange sort of thing. It’s a carnivorous plant that burrows deep into the soil. When something living touches it, it becomes active. It wraps around its prey then ‘swings’ it back and forth, slamming it into the ground repeatedly until it dies. Then it wraps its tendrils around the carcass and pulls it down below ground, devouring it over the course of several weeks.”

“And why have you stopped my army for this one plant?”

“Because there’s more than one here. If you look closely, you can see there’s quite a few.”

Saerith did not seem happy. “Are you suggesting…?”

“Yes, we need to go around them.”

“Nonsense! We are almost to Elvar. I’ve even spotted a tree not too far back. And I can see a few in the distance. We can be there before sunset if we press ourselves. Then the men can rest while we prepare our defenses ahead of the Hawk’s arrival.”