Rogue Powers (11 page)

She’d just sent the Stallion trotting off into the gathering darkness. As he was trained to do, the huge equine would eventually find his way back to the castle. The Network would be none the wiser for the Stallion’s appearance, yet Lydia could easily use the great horse to find her.

For now, it would have to do.

***

Four days later the victorious army, with Anson once more in its ranks, returned to the camps surrounding the capital city.

Half-a-day after striking out from the cliff face he’d made contact with the royal army, joining a unit at random. After several days of combat in the dense forest, many formations had become separated and cluttered with stragglers, allowing him to easily blend in.

Thus, he was just in time to participate in Prince Tenen’s now fabled strike at the Karden center, leading to much slaughter and the dispersal of the enemy army. With Prince Garob slain and the little men at least temporarily chastened, Tenen had led the triumphant march back down through the Kingdom to Brenlaw.

Vastly relieved to escape the capital city and its preying Demons a short time before, Anson now welcomed this new foray into the seat of royal power. Emboldened by his new found self-assurance and cleared perspective, he felt confident of handling anything they threw his way.

And the capital was where Anson needed to be, should he wish to reconnect with his young royal admirer. In fact, the seeds were ripe for another encounter the following day. The vast Victory Parade kicked off at noon, with ranks of proud soldiers, Anson among them, marching through the capital streets.

Surely there would be one brunette princess in particular watching, and sensing, the marching soldiers very carefully.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A
MID BOOMING DRUMS AND CHEERING THRONGS, the victory march crawled through Brenlaw. One after another each unit paused before the royal reviewing stand, presenting arms to the King. It was a wild, happy affair, the crowd becoming more boisterous as the spirits liberally distributed by local taverns took greater effect.

At the monarch’s insistence, Princess Lydia uncomfortably sat on the reviewing stand next to Prince Tenen. During the grand feast on the massive fairgrounds that evening, the King would formally announce their engagement.

Miserably, Lydia watched yet another procession of men parade off, clearing space for the next formation to march in. Fanning herself to little effect, the young princess was uncomfortably hot in her heavy dress.

Though they’d spoken little, Tenen at one point reached over and took her hand. After barely a minute she could stand it no longer, angrily yanking it away. Tenen merely smiled, patting her leg and clapping lustily for the next unit that presented themselves.

Across the street, Lydia spied a flock of pigeons on a rooftop. She briefly considered asking them to soil Tenen’s handsome military uniform, but everyone knew of her ability, and thus, would immediately discern the source of Tenen’s embarrassment. While she had no intention of actually marrying him, no matter what the King said, childish outbursts wouldn’t help matters any.

There! Sliding forward, holding very still, Lydia sensed Anson on the periphery of her mental envelope. Yes, it was the same telepathic signature she’d first encountered in the Throne Hall, somehow even stronger than before. Though casualties had been high, the mysterious stranger had obviously survived the Outlands fighting. Sighing in relief, Lydia found herself reveling in the mental touch, letting it carefully settle in the forefront of her own consciousness.

“Is something the matter, my dear?” Leaning over, Tenen spoke directly in her ear.

“No. Not at all.” Smiling mechanically, she then spitefully held a puzzled finger to pursed lips. “Why, what could possibly mar such a happy occasion as being in your Lordship’s company?”

“In time, my dear.” Rolling his eyes, Tenen turned his attention back to the reviewing area. “In time, you will learn to appreciate the wisdom of our match.”

Never, she silently replied. Better to steal a boat and sail off into the endless, stormy ocean than suffer being Tenen’s wife.

Catching her breath she leaned forward once more, for Anson himself now marched before the reviewing stand, taking his place in the rear ranks of assembled men.

While some officer read a dry proclamation and gave a flag to the King, she couldn’t take her eyes from Anson’s tall, strong form. Surely, in the heat of battle, or during the march back down to Brenlaw, he could have slipped away! Returning to his home village, no one would ever be the wiser. That would have been so much safer! After all, masking himself within the capital city must not be easy.

But return he did, now confidently staring up at her in the stands. As for his innate power, Anson was projecting directly to her, in a manner specifically attuned to her own mind. As confident a telepath as he obviously was, this commoner youth had no fear of discovery on the part of either the royals or Demons surely in close attendance. It was a breathtaking display of mental might and skill.

Hesitating only a moment, Lydia allowed herself to respond, her own cognitive energy mingling with his. They were flirting, touching even, right out in the open! It was an intoxicating experience, a display of sensitivity and talent utterly validating the promise of their initial contact. Across the way, amid thousands of people, she saw him smile and nod at the reviewing stand in silent recognition.

Soon it was all over. Making a sharp right face with the rest of his unit, Anson marched off, his mental signature gradually receding as the physical distance grew longer between them.

“Well, my dear.” Smirking, Tenen stroked her cheek. “Are you all ready for tonight’s festivities?”

What! Instantly, she grew incensed. “Tenen, there is NO chance...”

“The feast, my dear.” In simply odious fashion, the prince laughed at her discomfort. “I’m referring to the grand celebration on the fairgrounds. Though, if there was a more personal type of festivity you’d rather attend...”

“Will the army be there?” she demanded. “At the feast, I mean?”

“The men?” Surprised, Tenen shrugged. “Many are breaking camp and heading home this afternoon. There will be some, though, attending their own celebration on the opposite side of the fields tonight. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” she airily replied, peremptorily standing and striding off, leaving Tenen awkwardly facing an empty chair.

***

“Are you really going to marry him?” Belle asked. The two girls stood at the edge of a massive tent on the fairgrounds that evening, watching fellow royals and other dignitaries chat and sip drinks.

“No.” Bitterly, Lydia looked over at her own seat at the raised main table. She’d been placed right beside Tenen, who himself sat in a place of honor next to the King. Still basking in the adulation of his military victory, Tenen was the toast of the royal family.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad?” Smiling, Belle waved at someone across the way. “I mean, Tenen’s cute and all. And he clearly has a future at court. Right?”

“Then you can marry him.”

“Look, I’m just saying...”

“Belle, I’m not marrying anyone I don’t love!” Irritated, Lydia waved off a servant bearing trays of sweets.

A few moments went by. “Any word on your mom?” Belle made a point of keeping her voice low.

“No.” Anxiously, Lydia twisted her dark hair between two fingers. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

Just then she felt Anson again, tickling the edge of her awareness. He was nearby, letting his presence become known to her. Shaking slightly, she took a long drink of grape juice.

“What is it?” Intently studying her, Belle raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Well, um, I must leave.” Placing her drink on a table, Lydia lifted up her skirts, quickly walking off.

“Lydia!” Belle called after her. “Where are you going?”

Without answering, Lydia disappeared in the crowd, generally heading in the direction of the woods bordering the fairgrounds.

***

Perno thoughtfully watched Lydia rush from the royal tent, dark hair bouncing urgently about her shoulders.

The plan to vilify Aprina had backfired very badly. In the span of ten minutes Lydia’s mother had somehow managed to kill two of his key operatives and personally humiliate himself. In so doing, she’d also unveiled a previously unknown ability. Rooting out these types of obscure powers among the royal family was his specific responsibility (and now obvious failure), leading to an even greater loss of prestige with the King.

Making matters even worse, his top assassin, sent on campaign to find and kill the Unknown Talent within the army, had failed to report back. Of course, Senter might have eliminated the Talent before suffering some ill-fortune himself. Still, there was no way to know. It was safer to assume the Talent was still alive, and seemingly more dangerous than he’d possibly imagined.

Thus, Perno had personally toured the camps of the returning army, sensing not even a hint of power. So even if the Talent escaped death within the dark forests of the Outlands, he was bright enough to now avoid the capital city. Perhaps there was a list of deserters somewhere he could quietly investigate at a later date.

But for now his curiosity had been piqued. Where was Lydia rushing off to in such ill-disguised haste?

***

Sitting thirty feet up on a stout tree limb, Anson watched the teenage princess come closer. In the gathering twilight she was more beautiful than ever, her power emanating strongly throughout the forest.

Satisfied she hadn’t been followed, Anson easily dropped straight down to the ground, standing tall and unharmed before her.

“By the King!” Surprised and stunned, Lydia briefly recoiled at this seemingly superhuman physical display. “How did you do that?”

“Very easily, my Lady.” Laughing, he lifted and then lowered a medium-sized log by the tree. “My power involves moving objects with my mind.”

“Like the King?”

“Exactly. But I’ve recently learned how to channel power directly through my own body. In this way I can use my mental strength to enhance physical strength.”

“Wow. That’s...amazing.”

“Indeed, my Lady,” Anson replied. “As is your own sensitivity. You are the first to discover who I really am.”

Lydia blushed, not knowing quite what to say. “Well, I...”

Within the brush a feral boar gave out a loud snort, pawing angrily at the ground. Anson instantly touched his sword hilt.

“No! Wait!” Holding out a placating hand, Lydia looked at the thicket behind which the boar was hiding. They both heard it moving off.

“My ability,” she quickly explained. “I can talk to animals.” Somehow, spoken out loud, it sounded rather foolish

“Indeed.” Smiling, he advanced a step closer. “That’s a very useful talent, I would imagine.”

Struck by his calm, steady eyes and obvious mental strength, Lydia felt herself blushing. “Anson, is that your name?”

“It is. And you are?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Lydia.”

Smiling, he nodded in formal greeting. “Princess Lydia.”

“Yes, I’m a princess...but you! I mean, where did you come from?”

Before answering he sat down on the log, motioning for her to join him. Hesitating only a moment, she lightly sat down a few feet away.

“I come from the village of Hylen, my Lady.”

“Yes, I know. I mean, how did you...” Trailing off, she awkwardly indicated his body. “I mean, where did...”

“My mother. Long ago, she knew a prince.”

“Oh.” So Belle had been right about the royal men and their forays among the commoners.

Again, he gave an easy smile. “I’m not a devil, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No!” Involuntarily she touched his hand, instantly withdrawing it. “No, I didn’t think that! Not at all. But it must be lonely for you, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes,” he acknowledged. “But it’s been a way of life, ever since I can remember.”

“Staying hidden, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“So this is the first time you...I mean...”

“This is my first open conversation with another empowered person, yes.” Sighing, Anson looked up, letting the evening wind course over his chiseled features. “It’s a moment I’ve often dreamed about, actually.”

“Wow.” Lydia nervously smoothed her skirt. “I’m honored.”

“But Lydia, you mustn’t tell anybody.” Pausing, he chose his words carefully. “They would kill me if they knew.”

“Kill you?”

“They’ve already tried.” Anson easily recalled Senter’s maniacal glee in the glade, his primal ecstasy at the imposition of pain and death. “They may be uncertain as to my fate, actually. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Absolutely! Anson, you can...” Now putting a hand firmly on his arm, Lydia was struck by a surge of power flowing directly into her own body. It was different than anything she’d ever experienced before. Letting out a slow breath, she looked once more directly into his gaze, letting her hand remain in place for several moments. “By the King, Anson, your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Sure.” Blushing, she looked down. “I would anyway, but I really wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Thank you, Lydia.” Nodding, he didn’t look away. “Nor I to you.”

“Anson, they tried to arrest my mother!” Furious, she briefly turned away. “And now she’s ridden off, and I don’t know where. Do you think they may try to kill her as well?”

Very likely, Anson thought. The Network clearly played for keeps. “What did your mother do?”

“Nothing! And now the King wants me to marry Prince Tenen!”

“I see.” Anson drew back slightly. “Do you...”

“No! I hate Tenen!” A tear rolled down one cheek, soon followed by another. “I mean, we’re not to be married for a while. But no, I don’t want any of that!”

“So you wish to escape?” Anson said the words easily, as if an obvious conclusion.