by J C Maynard
“I live where I do for specific reasons.” he lied.
“Such as?”
Kyan hesitated, coming up with the closest-to-truth lie, concluding that she would eventually figure him out if she were to stay in Aunestauna. “I steal things . . . objects or information for the prince.”
Raelynn sat in the corner of Kyan’s shack and looked at the floor. She kept her knees close to her chest and her arms crossed over them.
“Maybe we can help each other.” he continued. “You can stay here with me for as long as you wish.”
Raelynn looked around the shack. “Thank you . . .”
◆◆◆
Calleneck sat with Lillia in a tunnel of the Network beneath Eastern Endlebarr as they waited for orders to return home. The explosion of the Great Gate ran through his head over and over again, and he tried in vain to remember if he cast a shield around Tallius and not only himself. Tallius’s burning corpse still smoldered in his head and it made him sick. The memory caused Calleneck to retch until he was exhausted and he now felt utterly helpless. Lillia’s arms covered her face, and when she lifted her head, she exposed her puffy, red eyes. Dalah approached and sat on her other side. Trying to reassure Lillia, she took her hand. “Tallius knew what he was doing, and he knew the risk.” Lillia nodded. Dalah continued. “You loved him . . . didn’t you?” Lillia nodded again and let out another sob. Dalah embraced her for a long time as Lillia wept helplessly — her right hand moved subconsciously to rest on her stomach.
Calleneck walked back to the Nexus with Aunika. “Calleneck, Mordvitch wants me to begin working undercover in Xandria’s castle soon . . . he says the time is right; so I may not see you for a while. Take care of Dalah for me, alright?”
“Of course.”
◆◆◆
Eston sat on the rubble-covered front steps of the Palace, waiting for King Tronum. Galloping horses not far off signaled the arrival. A cloud of white ash rose behind the pounding of hooves, and the horses were dappled with flakes of gray. The King dismounted his horse. Eston apprehensively walked forward to meet his father. The man’s eyes were red and no sign of life registered on his face. Eston flinched when the King reached forward and embraced him. A sound that Eston had never heard before followed . . . the sound of his father crying.
“Father, the city’s gone.”
“I know.” said the king.
“And Mother —”
“I know.”
“I tried to —”
“You did exactly what I would have expected and more.” King Tronum embraced Eston and looked out into the city. He wiped a tear from his eye; his dear wife was gone. “This city defended itself like I never would’ve imagined, but somehow you did it. You acted like a king, Eston; a king who puts his people before himself. Eston . . . I’m sure it will take a long time to recover from this, and meanwhile, I want you on the front lines. Although I now know that Whittingale betrayed us, he still doomed Cerebria by preparing you so well. I’m making you a General for our First Regiment.”
Eston breathed in deeply. “That would be an honor.”
“Where is your brother?”
“Fillian should be here soon; he saw the prisoners off to Camp Auness. His stab wound from Whittingale is still quite bad.”
The two of them watched the rising smoke from the city. “How did you do it, Eston?”
Eston shook his head. “It wasn’t me who saved Ferramoor . . . it was its people.”
Tronum began to walk away.
“Father,” said Eston, stopping him. “I have to speak with you about things I have found here in the Palace; beneath the Palace. Fillian and I know about the beasts, and I think we could gain an upper hand in this war by using them.”
◆◆◆
~ Morning, November 6th
Finally, after searching fervently for any explanation of Whittingale’s betrayal, Eston and Fillian found an unfinished draft in a compartment deep within Whittingale’s office that was addressed to the head of Xandria’s Technological Wing, the day before the attack. Alongside it were multiple other documents and reports detailing and organizing the rebellion against the throne. Fillian read the letter aloud to Eston.
“Your honor, In regard to your inquiry as to how this plan to destroy Ferramoor and get the requested object to you unfolded, here is a brief summary: Back when Xandria was governess of the Cerebrian territories, but worked under her brother Tronum in the Palace, I served as one of her closest assistants after she asked me. Over time, my loyalty to her grew more important to me than my loyalty to Tronum. So, when Cerebria succeeded, I became Xandria’s core intelligence provider of the inner workings of the Ferramish government — she had promised to fulfill a wish of mine in exchange for the risk I took on my shoulders. While providing Xandria with inside information, I gained King Tronum’s trust and served as the principle tutor to Prince Eston. Four months ago, Xandria told me her plan, which she expects to conclude tomorrow night, when King Tronum is gone to Ifle-Laarm. She knew she couldn’t win the war through Endlebarr; it’s nothing but attrition in that forest. She knew she had to strike Aunestauna directly, but from the sea. The Ferrs have pushed nearly all your soldiers into Endlebarr, and have failed to leave adequate defenses here.” Fillian stopped and looked up, “It cuts off there.”
Eston grabbed another document and unfolded it. “Let me see if I can find anything here.” He took the document and squinted through the handwriting.
“Anything?” said Fillian.
Eston kept reading. “It gives the names of the leaders of the Guards who helped him, but we already have them in prison . . . he says again that they had to wait until Benja was-”
“Was what?” asked Fillian.
“Hold on.” said Eston as he read ahead. He looked up at Fillian. “Whittingale was the one who put the poison in our glasses many weeks ago.”
Fillian thought. “But if he poisoned the wine, why did he stop us from drinking it? Wouldn’t he have wanted to take us all out?”
Eston shook his head. “That wouldn’t have done it though, he needed to destroy the Palace and everyone in it, as well as Aunestauna. He needed the Guard on his side.”
Fillian’s eyes shot wide open. “And the Guard was overseen by Benja . . . that’s why he framed him.”
Eston started putting it all together. “He wanted to throw everyone off his scent by saving Father from the poison that he himself administered. He wanted Father to trust him enough to put him in control of the Guard . . . He wasn’t trying to kill the royal family because that would be done after the Guard was on his side. The whole time he was setting up Benja —” Eston’s heart nearly stopped. “Fillian.” he said. “Look in that stack for the word Nightsnake.”
“Why?” said Fillian, as he began searching through the sheets of parchment.
Eston scrambled for a reason. “Have you ever heard of them?”
Fillian nodded and sifted through the documents. “Infamous gang of thieves. I didn’t think they were real.”
Eston shook his head. “The final straw against Benja’s case was his supposed theft of the Palace Vault. But what if it wasn’t Benja?” Of course, Eston knew it wasn’t Benja who stole the stone, it was him. But he was beginning to think that Riccolo didn’t just ask him to steal it for the money.
Fillian snatched out a letter. “Here! It’s a copy of a contract he gave their leader.” He began to read furiously.
“Read it aloud.” said Eston.
“It says: Our government is gathering quite a collection of files on your group, you will soon be exposed: your numbers, your locations, everything. But if you agree to the following, I could have those files destroyed.”
Fillian continued to read. “You will send one of your thieves to steal a stone from the Palace Vault for me. The night of your break in, I will ensure the Palace Overseer, Benja Tiggins is set up for the crime.”
Eston interjected, “Did he ever figure out those meetings were about Silverb
rook’s beasts below the Palace? Look in the last letter you had.”
“It doesn’t mention the beasts.” said Fillian, reading back over the first letter. “Whittingale says here: I’ve earned Tronum’s trust throughout my years as Eston’s teacher, and if the plan succeeds, he will appoint me Palace Overseer in Benja’s place. From there it will be easy to find the weaknesses in Aunestauna’s defenses and exploit them. I have already persuaded a large number of the Ferramish Guard to join Xandria with a promise of wealth and fame in her new empire, and there will be more soon that join. They, along with some Nightsnakes who took my deal, will slay every senator, governor, and general, even Prophet Ombern. I will give you more details on how we will need your assistance as the time approaches. Long live the rightful Queen.”
Fillian looked up. “That’s where it ends.”
The princes sat in silence, thinking of how everything seemed so obvious now, but not at the time. But there were still missing links. “Eston,” asked Fillian, “do you think the stone that was stolen was significant itself?”
Eston shook his head, remembering the last time he saw it, handing it over to Riccolo. “Well I have a strong feeling that Whittingale didn’t just use that to frame Benja . . . I think he wanted that stone as well — knowing him, he would’ve been accomplishing multiple tasks at once . . . I have no idea where that stone is.” Eston bit his lip. “Benja was right . . .”
Fillian lowered the letter. “About what?”
Eston looked out the shattered window at the scorched city. “Things in this Palace are not as they seem . . . and we shouldn’t have trusted anyone . . .”
◆◆◆
~November 9th
In a dark and cold tunnel beneath Seirnkov, Cerebrian Guards opened a massive wooden door. A group of workers behind them carried a large wooden chest into a barren stone room and set it on a marble table. The door shut behind them with an echoing clap. The stone room was lit by no torches, but a soft white light radiated from the crack in the chest, casting a ghostly glow on their faces.
“Are you sure this is it?” whispered a man.
“Positive. It was shipped straight from Aunestauna and up the Shirr. Sir Whittingale’s signature is on the lock.”
“Did the thieves know what it was?”
The other man shook his head.
“Well how can this help us now if the Great Gate is destroyed and our attack on Aunestauna failed?”
“We destroyed Aunestauna.”
“Tronum and the sons are still alive, and we didn’t take down the rest of the country.”
“Just trust her.”
The guards opened the doors again, and a pale figure walked silently into the room. A long white gown trailed behind her as she stepped toward them like a silent boat on dark, enchanted waters. Reminiscent of the silvery stars in the evening sky, she held her pale, white chin high, moving as gracefully as a cloud drifting over cold, snowy mountaintops. Her long white-blonde hair and silvery blue eyes glistened in the pale glow coming from the chest. A necklace of the rarest blue and white crystals hung from her narrow neck. The white gown seemed to float behind her, and the walls of the chamber seemed to whisper as she stepped forward.
The workers bowed to her. “Your Majesty . . . it has come.”
Queen Xandria placed her delicate, white hands on either side of the box as a worker opened it with a key. The lock clicked and Xandria drew open the box.
Inside the chest, a large, glowing stone lay swirling in light. The stone’s edge seemed undefined and its interior swirled with ribbons of white smoke; the flowing, glass-like orb shimmered as a pool of water in the moonlight. Little stars danced around inside it and melted into the air in wisps of light. Xandria placed her hand on the glowing stone and whispered in a terrifyingly calm voice, “Our victory is sealed.”
End of Part I