Rogue Powers (17 page)

“Trust me, I will.” Nearly shaking in anger, Tenen now stared off. “So you say you were alone? That Perno assailed you in the forest, seeking to turn you against me?”

“Yes,” Anson replied. “Like I said, he wanted me to bear false witness against you, telling the King you were disloyal. What else was I to do?”

Angrily swiping at a spot of dirt on his boot, Tenen considered. Could the story be true? After all, if Perno had discovered Anson’s true nature, he might well have sought to turn him against Tenen himself. “And Princess Lydia? She was nowhere in the area?”

“I saw her not, my Lord.” Though trying to sound casual, Anson didn’t miss the hard glint in Tenen’s eye.

“Hmmm.” Glancing around the bright courtyard, at the normal mid-morning activity, Tenen nodded. “Very well, then. I will not tell the King of your involvement.”

“I appreciate that, my Lord.”

“But we must find some other scoundrel on which to blame this.” Smiling thinly, Tenen adjusted a button on Anson’s tunic. “The King is demanding blood. If not ours, then someone else’s.”

“We’ll find someone, my Lord. Have no fear.”

“Good.” Irritably, the prince scratched his forehead. “Dismissed.”

Watching Anson cross back over to the guard station, Tenen carefully considered what he knew thus far. One fact, he now realized, was greatly at odds with Anson’s story.

Perno had been killed a good two-hour Stallion ride north of the castle. A conventional horse would be at least five hours there, and five hours back. Certainly way too far for a single-day hunting excursion.

So if Anson had really been there, which he now admitted, he would have had to travel by Stallion.

Yet only the royals could ride the great horses. And the only one checked out of the stables that day had been in the possession of Lydia.

Rage again surging to the fore, Tenen stalked off. Clearly, Anson was still lying. He and Lydia were conspiring behind his back, making him the laughingstock of the entire caste.

The King was right. He needed to get Lydia in line, once and for all.

Once that was accomplished, he could deal with Anson at his leisure.

***

Drawing quietly in her apartment, Lydia put the finishing touches on her latest work. It was a portrait of Heathrow, her cat, noble eyes and ears put in just the right perspective.

Suddenly the outer door swung open. In alarm she turned about, surprised to see Anson stride into the room in full uniform.

“We must be ready to flee,” he announced without preamble. “Tonight.”

“What?” Half standing, she looked past him in alarm. “Why?”

“Tenen. He’s putting it all together.”

“All right.” Nodding, she thought quickly. “I’ll make sure Xander’s available. And my cats! We need to take them as well.”

Hesitating only a moment, Anson looked at the three felines in turn. “Fine. We’ll leave at midnight. But you must be ready to go sooner, should we need to.”

“I will.” A few royals walked by in the outside passageway, obviously curious as to Lydia’s military visitor. “You must go now,” she urged, once they were safely past. “Try to avoid Tenen.”

“And you as well. Until tonight, then.” And with that, he was gone.

Stunned, Lydia looked around her pleasant apartment, only now realizing her life was about to change very drastically.

***

By the early afternoon Tenen had worked himself into a complete fury. Dropping by the royal party house in town, the young prince quickly became roaring drunk. But even the unexpected presence of a young commoner lass did little to assuage his overall mood. Falling into a stupor around five o’clock, he then slept through dinner, awakening at nine, bitter and hung over.

Clearly, Lydia needed to understand the nature of their relationship, show him the respect he deserved. In fact, once his dear bride-to-be had been properly chastened, dealing with Anson would be that much easier.

Thus, fully irritated and still not-quite-sober, the disheveled young prince stalked back to the castle, proceeding directly to Lydia’s apartment.

“Get out!” he roared at Belle, having flung open the front door with a tremendous crash. “I need some time alone with dear Princess Lydia!”

“Are you crazy?” Leaping to her feet, Lydia tried to interpose herself between her stunned apartment-mate and the enraged prince. “Tenen, you have no right...”

Shoving her aside, Lydia was thrown to the floor. Grasping Belle by the arm, Tenen then flung her out into the passageway.

Outside the apartment, Lydia could hear Belle crying. “Enough!” Tenen bellowed, his back turned to Lydia within the doorway. Raising his hand, a stream of flame erupted out in the outer passageway. Belle screamed.

“No!” Lydia cried out, stumbling to her feet. Before she could act, however, Tenen stepped back into the apartment, slamming and bolting the door closed.

“What did you do?” Lydia screamed. “You bastard!”

“Oh, Belle’s fine. I just frightened her.” Smiling, Tenen made a great show of looking Lydia up and down. “And now for you, my dear.”

Gathering her own power, Lydia backed away. “What do you mean?”

“Soon you will be my wife, you know.”

“Never!” she seethed, carefully watching him. “In any event, not for another year!”

“I don’t feel like waiting.” Advancing a step, Tenen slowly undid his left cufflink. “In fact, I think you’ll be my wife tonight.”

Eyes narrowing, Lydia considered. Though she could negate his power, the young prince was still physically very strong. “Tenen, if you...”

Behind Tenen the apartment door burst inward once again, this time dissolving into several large chunks. Falling through the opening, Anson sprawled onto the floor, face down. Narrowly avoiding him, Tenen ducked off to one side.

“Anson!” he bellowed. “Get out!” And so saying, Tenen raised his hand, an initial lick of flame sparking out from his pinkie finger.

But Lydia was quicker. Raising her own fist, she zonked Tenen with a savage burst of energy before he could fry a still-prostrate Anson on the floor.

For a split-second the haughty royal stood there, staring at his own inert hand in amazement. Raising his other fist he tried anew, yet his power had been fully negated.

“By the King!” Stunned, he turned to Lydia. “What have you done?”

Rising to his feet, Anson rubbed his forehead. Clearly, even though using his power to crash through the door, he’d taken a blow on the way through.

“I’m not afraid of you, Tenen!” Lydia yelled. “Now leave!”

“You bitch!” Advancing a step, Tenen raised his fist.

With a mere mental flick, however, Anson sent his superior crashing against the far wall, holding him there by the neck. Helplessly, Tenen’s fingers scratched against the invisible bonds at his throat, gasping for air.

“Are you ready?” Anson asked. “We must leave, at once.”

“Yes!” Grabbing a travel bag in one hand, the princess then scooped up a box with several air holes punched in the side. “My cats,” she explained.

“Let’s go.” Ushering her through the shattered door, Anson then turned back to Tenen. “I would not follow us, my Lord.”

Unable to reply, Tenen still feebly fought Anson’s mental grip. Hesitating only a moment, Anson tossed him into the back of the apartment, the prince crashing into a heavy table and then laying still.

Out in the hallway Lydia was hugging a distraught Belle, whispering her goodbyes. For his part, Anson coolly ordered several responding Royal Guardsman up to the castle’s ramparts, where even now Lord Tenen was fighting a group of assassins. The unsuspecting men clattered off without a word.

Five minutes later Anson, Lydia, and her cats were atop Xander, thundering out of the castle courtyard.

***

By morning’s first light they cantered into Hylen, pulling up before Anson’s childhood home.

While he’d already arranged a safe hiding place for his mother with Princess Aprina, she’d not intended to leave Hylen until the following week, right before Anson and Lydia’s planned escape. But now, with Tenen’s interference having forced a new timetable, she needed to depart immediately.

“Are you sure?” she asked, glancing up at the young princess, still atop the great Stallion.

“Mom, there’s no other way,” Anson insisted. “They may be following us on Stallions, or using pigeons to alert closer troops. This is the first place they’ll come! You must go. Now!”

“And what of you?” Now starting to take it all in, she put a hand to her son’s cheek.

“We must flee as well. To another world, beyond the Outlands.”

“Is there no other way?” she whispered.

“None,” he replied, hugging her close.

Ten minutes later, after their final goodbye, Anson and Lydia turned to the west and the nearest Outlands border. His mother rode off in the opposite direction, taking the back roads to Yarlee and Princess Aprina.

***

Late that afternoon, still atop Xander after a hard run across the western Kingdom, Anson and Lydia exited a light wood. Before them was a beautiful field flowing down to a shallow stream. Crawling up the far bank, however, were thick, gnarled roots leading to a foreboding forest. Above were dark clouds, interspersed with flecks of lightning.

“The Outlands,” Anson breathed. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” Lydia said, hugging his chest. “As long as we’re together, I can face anything.”

Crossing the field and dismounting, the princess pulled the cat container down from Xander’s back. Opening the top, her three felines cautiously peered out.

“They can keep up with us on foot.” Taking down her travel bag, Lydia then tossed it aside. “I can do without that, though. I don’t even know why I brought it.”

“Yes, we need to travel light.” Taking what little food and water they possessed, along with two sleeping rolls, Anson pulled the saddle from Xander’s back. “He can find his own way back.”

“Yes. But wait!” Lydia reached underneath the saddle, now sitting on the grass, pulling out a small red bag.

“What are those?” he asked.

“Gems. Money.” She shrugged. “You never know.”

He smiled. “I guess you don’t.”

On the far side of the field a few men now appeared, brandishing swords and shouting.

“The Royal Guard,” Anson observed. “Hot on our trail.”

“Will they follow us into the Outlands?” Apprehensively, Lydia placed a hand on his arm.

“We’ll soon find out. Come on.” Grabbing Lydia’s hand, Anson used his power to convey them all over the stream. Plunging into the Outlands, they all disappeared into the thick forest.

***

For a few hours they made good time, the two renegades following the trail Anson had charted from various old maps. But the land was muddy and slick from recent rain. Combined with the stress of their escape from the castle, progress soon slowed to a crawl.

At one point they tried flying, but the cats thrashed and screamed mid-air, almost causing Anson to drop them all into a murky lake. While landing they  attracted a brace of Karden arrows, forcing them all into a desperate run.

That night Anson kept watch, the weather unseasonably cold and damp. At several points he had to wake Lydia so she could ask marauding predators to pass them by, leaving neither with any real rest.

By mid-morning the next day Anson realized they were hopelessly lost. Using the sun as a vague guide, however, they pressed on, forcing their way ever deeper into the Outlands. By evening they had made their way into a mountainous area.

“I’m not sorry, you know.” Trudging along a narrow cleft, a sharp ravine falling away to their left, Lydia spoke from behind him.

Stopping, Anson turned back to her. “You’re not?”

“No.” Wet and bedraggled, shivering within a light shawl, Lydia nevertheless smiled up at him. “We’re together, my love. And safe, at least at the moment. That’s all that matters.”

Sighing, Anson nodded at the three sorry-looking felines bringing up the rear. “Your cats might feel differently right now.”

“They’ll live.”

“My love,” he repeated, savoring the words. “I like the sound of that.”

Laughing, she pushed him forward. “And I like the sound of finding a campsite for tonight! Come on.”

An hour later they laid down within their sleeping rolls, beneath the stars, atop a small plateau. Steep, sliding mountainside led downward in most directions. Snuggling close, their cats curled around them, they both fell into a desperate sleep.

Sometime later, Anson drifted awake. Was that...

“Kardens!” he yelled. Three of the little men had crawled up onto the plateau with them, armed with sharp knives. Instinctively, Anson flicked them high into the night sky to crash down into the rocky ravines surrounding them. If he’d been a second later, the native warriors would have slain them both.

Rocketing to his feet, Anson was able to dispatch another ten of the maniacal natives rushing the plateau en masse. But while flying off into oblivion, the last Karden was able to loose a single arrow, the weapon plunging deep into Anson’s upper chest.

A tremendous crack of thunder erupted just above, the entire area instantly soaked in pounding rain.

Without hesitation, Lydia reached down to the now prostrate Anson, yanking the arrow from him. Blood poured forth. “Come on!” she yelled. “We’ve got to keep moving!”

Causing the arrow to shine like a beacon, Lydia led a wounded, weakened Anson further up the steep mountain trail, the cats scurrying after them as best they could. Not far behind they could hear more Kardens closing in for the kill.

A bolt of lightning streaked into the rugged trail ahead, detonating in heat and fire. Both of them were knocked flat, Lydia grabbing Anson before he rolled off the trail entirely.

Taking a moment to let her eyes recover, Lydia then peered through the heavy sheets of pounding rain in dismay. The entire pathway before them had been obliterated, ending  in jagged rock and dirt. There was nowhere else to go.

Anxiously peering back the way they’d come, Lydia watched the lead Karden warrior stalk into view. Seeing their prey wounded and trapped, he let out a tremendous whoop, pounding his chest in the slashing rain.