The Complete Enslaved Chronicles

by R. K. Thorne

  No sign of their father. Aven sunk his head back into his hands as Thel strode away.

  Moments later, Dyon strode up with Alikar at his side. Was he pulling the younger man by the fur on his cloak?

  “You wanted to see me, my lord?” Alikar said, voice dripping with disdain.

  “You’ve been helping our enemies. Tell me what you’ve told them.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “All right, if you won’t simply tell the truth, we’ll go bit by bit. How did they know when we’d be on the road and exactly which road we’d take?”

  “They could have watched all the roads.”

  “Please. All of them?” That was possible with the crows overhead, but Aven wouldn’t admit that just now. He wanted information, not to educate his enemy on the finer points of magic.

  “They’d already attacked Estun. Clearly they were in the area,” Alikar said.

  “They knew when we left. You’re a traitor.”

  “That’s certainly one way to deal with your opposition, but you won’t shut me up that way.”

  “The letters you’ve been receiving from Kavanar. Just who are those letters from, might I ask?”

  “It’s none of your business—”

  “Yes, it is, as a matter of fact. If you’re feeding Kavanar’s lies to our Assembly, I have every damn right to know whom you’re getting your information from. And possibly whom you might be sending information to. Sounds like treason to me.”

  Alikar sniffed. “I won’t tell you. Nefrana protects me and guides my hand.” His words were sarcastic, proudly flaunting how little he meant them.

  Aven would have liked to run the man through with his sword just then. Aven wouldn’t, but he wanted to. “You can pray to Nefrana all you want, but Daes can’t protect you here.” Aven’s bet paid off as Alikar’s eyebrow twitched with recognition and surprise that Aven knew the Dark Master’s name. The lord strove to hide it and keep his face blank, but Aven had seen enough. “I know you’re working with Mage Hall. I think you delivered his scroll to Miara. I think you brought those assassins with you, at Daes’s request.” At that, Alikar paled, although his expression did not change. He hadn’t known they were assassins, had he? He could have thought they were only spies. “I think you told them about the demonstration so they knew where and when to attack. And I think you told them when we left and which road we took.”

  “Those are tall accusations for a mage to make.”

  For a moment, Aven saw himself punching the bastard in the jaw. But he kept it together. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Alikar, and I don’t think you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “I am not the one whose choices led to the possible death of the king.”

  “Aren’t you, though? We wouldn’t be on the road if you’d simply abdicated your position.”

  “You forget your place,” Aven thundered at him. The whole clearing fell silent. “If you’re lucky, we’ll find my father. But until then, I am king. You’d do well to remember that.”

  Alikar opened his mouth, but Aven cut him off.

  “And if we don’t find my father, I will hold you personally accountable.”

  “For what? You can’t—”

  Alikar was right. He had no proof. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t find some. Alikar would slip up eventually.

  “I’m watching you, you bastard. Make no mistake.”

  Jaena didn’t recall dozing off, but Ro’s voice in her ear roused her. “Knights—up ahead,” he whispered.

  She blinked, trying to clear her eyes, and she could see them. Lucky that this section of road was fairly straight, but trees had begun to appear. The mountains that waited inside the Akarian border neared; they must be close. “Are we nearly to the border? Are they watching for us?”

  He nodded. “And anyone else your friends might have freed.”

  He turned the horse off the road casually, as if they were stopping to rest it.

  “If we can see them…” she said softly.

  He gave another crisp nod. “They can see us.”

  She took a deep breath, steeling herself for battle. “What do we do? I wish I had my staff.”

  “Well, we could probably go through them.” He squinted over Yada’s back as she happily began searching for something edible in the late fall foliage. “We’ve taken six before. Know how to use a sword or mace?”

  “I hadn’t gotten to sword yet, but I’m probably less likely to injure myself with that than the mace.”

  “Here—put it on just in case.” He handed her the weapon with the strap bunched up in one hand. She pulled it over her head and one shoulder and hoped she wouldn’t need to use it. She was used to the longer range of the staff and hadn’t gotten comfortable with opponents in close quarters. It would come with time, she was sure, but it was not something she’d mastered yet. “Alternatively,” he continued, “we could try to go around.”

  He glanced to the north, and she followed his gaze. Her stomach sank with dread as she saw how the trees thickened. The density would help hide them, but none of the typical oaks or firs of Hepan’s forests grew there. Strange, broad-rooted trees rose out of murky earth below them, roots poking out like fingers into the muddy water.

  “Is that… a puddle?”

  “Yes. Well, more accurately, I think it’s a swamp.”

  “Seven hells,” she swore.

  “What?”

  She waved him off. “Hepani have a different concept of hell than Kavanarians, I believe. Now is not exactly the time.”

  “Just when I thought I’d get something interesting about Hepan out of you.” He grinned. “I’m joking. What do you think we should do?”

  She kept her glance over her shoulder at the Devoted as veiled as she could. Even if there were only six of them, she would rather not risk it. It was not hard to get injured, or worse, as her ankle so delightfully illustrated. Maybe if they had a healer with them, or knew one would be waiting in Anonil. But they really had no idea what awaited them there.

  Funny how easily she’d gone from worrying for herself to worrying about both of them.

  “We might be able to handle them, but we could still be injured in the process. Possibly gravely.”

  “I’d prefer not to kill them either, but we may not have much choice if it comes to that.”

  He was a better man than she, clearly. Not that she longed for such a thing, but they wouldn’t have blinked an eye at killing her. Self-defense was a completely different matter. “That swamp does not look promising, though. Any other ideas?”

  “We could delay and see if they stay all night? Perhaps we could sneak by them in the darkness.”

  “Where’s a creature mage when you need one,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, it doesn’t matter. Just trying to think if there’s a way to involve magic somehow. Let’s sit down like we’re having lunch, and I’ll think about it. Out of sight, if we can.”

  He searched a little farther into the woods while she monitored the Devoted. He checked out a few locations before beckoning her forward. “A lot of wet ground, but I think this will be not too terrible with a bedroll down.”

  She nodded, but her mind was working. What could she do that would not hurt the knights, but that would somehow allow her and Ro to pass? She’d survived her first altercation with Devoted by tunneling away—could she bury them in a cave of her own making? Something they could dig out of, but that would delay them long enough? Of course, that would also be a rather terrifying experience.

  Breaking open the earth beneath them would likely kill them. But maybe she didn’t need to actually trap them. Could she just… scare them a little? Or a lot? Enough to make them run away?

  “Maybe I can frighten them away,” she said.

  He cocked his head, eyes twinkling. “I assure you, neither of us is that mud covered or rain drenched that we w
ill frighten anyone.” He sat cross-legged on one end of the bedroll and appeared to be waiting for her to join him on it.

  “No, I meant with magic.”

  His brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth as though he might object. But then he glanced at the swamp and shut it again.

  “If we go into the swamp, I might be able to bring earth up so that we don’t have to trudge through the water, or at least less of it. But it’s not easy, and the swamp is not a great place for a horse. And I’m also not keen on disturbing the swamp. That’s against the Balance in its own way. I could try to return it to its natural state as we go, but it would be exhausting and imperfect.”

  He shook his head. “I know. I—I can’t condone using magic, but if it avoids us having to kill them, or risk Yada… that seems worth trying.”

  At least he was practical. She wanted to point out that killing them would definitely be more evil than scaring them away with a few earthquakes, but she held back. It’d be better to make such a point when she was sure her plan had actually worked. For all she knew, they could end up in an altercation anyway. She lay down on half of the bedroll beside him, knees bent and feet flat to the earth.

  A good position to connect to the soil.

  “You watch, I’ll work.”

  She had no interest in arguing the point further, since they had few alternatives, so she closed her eyes before he could respond. She sank her mind deeper into the soil, feeling the immensity of the water in the swamp that lay beside them, the way the roots of the trees curled down into the earth, the burrowing of the creatures clawing through it.

  She couldn’t quite feel the mountains, and she had no landmarks beyond the swamp’s water to work with to know exactly where the knights were while she was this deep down. A creature mage would have been able to feel them, but not her, not at this distance. Not unless they started digging a hole or something. She would just have to guess.

  She took in a slow breath, steadying herself. And then, as she breathed out, she pressed more energy into the earth, into the soil, activating it with her power. Letting it get… excited. Angry. Tense. She found the deepest plates, where the earth turned to rivers of heat that no one quite understood. Some thought this might be the first hell, but she doubted it. It felt like earth and only earth; there were no people there, at least not to her.

  She searched for a seam, a rock, an edge, a boulder in the rivers of heat and earth. There—a fragile crevice. Anara forgive me for meddling in these things, she thought. And then, with a slight inward wince, she twisted, pushed. Rock slid over rock, shuddering and skidding, breaking.

  Back in her body, she felt the ground shake. Ro grabbed her shoulder, probably out of instinct, and Yada whuffed. Horse hooves shifted uncomfortably.

  She relaxed for a minute, two, maybe longer, simply allowing her mind to ride the flows of the deep earth.

  Then again, she set one bit of the world against another, and the collision shook the ground beneath them again.

  Now she let go fully and opened her eyes. He was staring straight at her, gaping a little. When he realized it, though, he looked away quickly.

  “That was—you did that?”

  She nodded. You could do it too, she thought. But she said nothing. She sat up. “Do we have any food? Let’s eat, and I’ll do it again. Maybe it can frighten them off the path. If not—I have a second idea. But it’s best to leave it for nightfall.”

  He opened a saddlebag, withdrew something folded in waxed paper, and handed it to her. “For nightfall? Why?”

  “You’ll see,” she said and took a bite of sausage. “Don’t you want to be surprised?”

  “By something you intend to frighten them away with? I’m not so sure about that.”

  Miara urged Lukor into a gallop in the direction of the storm forming in the distance. The tightly clustered, swirling clouds were too small to be natural, hanging low and close to the ground, nearly covering the valley ahead.

  Aven’s quickly sketched map had worked perfectly, and she’d managed to filch a few supplies before heading out the long, narrow tunnel. Flying till she found the stables, she’d discovered only a few horses were not already being prepared for the journey to Panar, and so she’d hidden in the stable’s eaves as the horses and single carriage had been loaded and then led away. More than once she’d been tempted to see if she could spot Aven, but she’d been too wary of being noticed and imprisoned again in her rooms. She’d finally spotted him as the procession departed, riding down the long stone bridge into the early morning sunlight. Two hours or so later, she’d saddled up her gelding, the amiable and sweet Lukor, and taken off after them. The stable hands had all retired by then, as they’d been up all night preparing for the departure.

  She hadn’t yet made it all the way through the valley when the churning, bleak clouds had drifted behind a peak and faded from her sight. A column of thick smoke, dark as pitch, rose in its place, then another farther in the distance.

  Damn.

  Lukor pounded down the mountain road, fast as she dared to urge him. At the ridge just before the smoking valley, she slowed. If she simply rode straight out, she would reveal herself to gods only knew whom. What was over there? Or more importantly, who? And how could she figure it out without alerting them to her presence? She could dismount and check the place out, perhaps by creeping from the crest of the ridge to her left, but that might lose her precious time. She could transform them both, but she had a feeling Lukor was not quite ready for that yet.

  She eased her mind out into the surrounding trees until she found a nearby robin. She tried to calm herself as she whispered a soft, musical greeting, warming it to her presence. It focused on her immediately, always keen on new creatures in its territory. It huddled with a group of other robins against the icy rain that had just passed.

  It’s all right, she whispered. I just want to see over the ridge. Can you help me see what’s there?

  In answer, the little bird jumped into flight. It—no, he—was happy to help, especially if it meant keeping an eye on his woods and rocks and worms and things. They were his, of course, and he needed to watch out for other robins anyway. She hoped he couldn’t sense her amusement. The individual concerns and motivations of different animals were so interesting and unexpected to her, while at the same time universal—safety, security, companionship, curiosity. Common needs and motivations for people too.

  She followed through its gaze. Her stomach twisted a little at the movement, but she forgot the sensation when she saw the wreckage.

  A carriage lay broken and smoldering off the side of the road. One side had been smashed by a boulder that rested a few feet away. The first column of smoke came from it, twisting lazily into the sky.

  A mound of fir branches lay over a large heap to the side of the road, the typical harried treatment of a fallen comrade during a rushed battle. Or perhaps the battle continued somewhere else?

  The heap looked large enough to contain three or four bodies, maybe more.

  Stranger still, a ravine ripped through the earth and split the road down the center. No such gash had existed during her and Aven’s journey to Estun.

  What the hell had happened here? And by the gods, where was Aven? And all the others?

  The depth of her concern for Elise, Samul, Siliana, Wunik, Thel, Dyon, all of them, even Derk, surprised her a little. She hadn’t known them long enough to realize she might care so much what happened to them.

  The robin hopped forward a few times, jogging Miara’s mind from her reflection and dizzying her a little.

  Let’s look over the next ridge too, she whispered. There’s another column of smoke. Don’t you want to see what that’s about?

  Indeed, he did, but not before he snatched a nearby juniper berry and gobbled it down.

  Over the next ridge lay an even more mysterious scene. A fire had indeed scorched the earth here. Fallen trees crackled as the hollowed shell of one collapsed into mere embers. Flame must ha
ve spread to the surrounding brush too, as much of it was blackened. The cold and rain must have eventually put out much of the blaze. Strangest of all, though, were three great black spots on the earth, each about a horse length’s width. They were all within a few feet of each other, but not touching, randomly dotting the earth among the charred trees and branches.

  Lightning had struck here. Three times.

  Or more precisely, a mage had caused lightning to strike here. The real question was: to what end, and had they achieved their purpose?

  She had rarely seen lightning spells cast, at least not of this magnitude. What occasion did anyone at Mage Hall have to practice magic on that scale? The lightning must have been brought down from the storm, which had now dissipated, leaving weak, late-day sunlight shining down on this desolation.

  What the hell had happened here?

  Whatever had happened, no one was left. She reached out more broadly across the valleys, sensing the usual mix of mountainous forest life, but no humans. She could ride on safely and investigate.

  Thank you, she whispered to the robin, and he burbled a bit of song as he flew back to join his flock. As concerned as he was about his territory, it was cold, after all.

  Now she urged Lukor around the bend of the road. Tackle the toughest thing first. She headed to the fir branches, her mind probing for life. Nothing, save a few flies. Death was the last thing she wanted to see. But hesitating would not bring whoever was under there back to life. Get it over with, see what worlds had been destroyed this day.

  Who had fallen?

  Could one of them have been Aven?

  If the crown prince had died, the Akarians would have spared more time for a true burial, wouldn’t they have? Or taken him with them? He could not be dead and just lying by the side of the road here for her to find.

  Could he?

  What if he had been betrayed? What if all of them had been betrayed? What if Alikar had taken control of the procession somehow, and she found the whole royal family cast aside here in a hasty coup?