Beyond The Vale

by Brian D. Anderson

  Other sons would have stayed, he thought, as he pulled away. But then other sons aren’t as selfish as you.

  His father had never chastised him for not wanting to stay, but Bane knew it had hurt him. Perhaps Lenora would reward him by allowing the garage to be moved into lower Troi. The stubborn old man would never stop working, not were he the wealthiest person in Vale.

  He forced these thoughts from his mind. He needed to focus. Whether this was really Exodus was uncertain. He had reluctantly confided in Zara how to contact him should he need to go into hiding, or should he for whatever reason be unable to make contact. But she would likely think him dead. Though she might have reached out on the chance he would escape.

  He touched the yellow mana pad on the console. “Low profile.”

  Her paint shimmered and rippled, transforming to a dented and rusted shell. It was even more convincing than Cal’s – the dents were a new feature. And unlike Cal, her body shape was not a giveaway. The desire to push her over one hundred was almost more than he could resist, but a beat-up junker flying down the road at that speed would attract attention.

  Following the directions, he passed by the building. As his father had said, it looked abandoned. He continued for about another mile and then turned around. Again he passed by without stopping, and this time turned into a small empty lot about a quarter mile further down. There had been a few other buildings where he could have pulled behind, but that would have been the obvious thing to do. Never do what people expect – a rule he had lived by for many years.

  He went over Shel’s security features for a few minutes. Then, after checking to ensure no one was watching, returned on foot to the building.

  He filled himself with mana and casting a series of protection spells, some of which he had crafted himself. He loved the way they tingled, like wind over damp skin. These would slow projectiles. He’d considered casting one that would help against mana, but since it would weaken his aggressive magic, he decided against it. After all, it wasn’t likely another mage would be about. And P37’s, should he encounter royal guards, would overcome any defense he could offer.

  The front door was unlocked. Stepping cautiously inside, he found the building had been gutted long ago, anything useful no doubt taken by scavengers. Only a few wires hung from the ceiling, and there were hunks of tile and brick scattered about. The sharp stench of waste told him the space was frequently used by homeless vagabonds, confirmed by a charred metal barrel set off to the near corner where they would huddle to stave off the cold.

  The faint light sifting in through the broken windows was not enough to spot what he was looking for. A tiny flick of his wrist produced an orb of light that hovered a few inches above the ground just in front of him. But after only a few steps, the click of a weapon froze him in place.

  “Who are you?” called a voice from where the barrel was located. “Bane,” he replied. “Dorn said you were looking for me.”

  “Bane? That’s impossible. You’re dead.”

  A tingle ran up his spine. “So you weren’t looking for me?” He turned to see two men pointing rifles, having emerged from a cleverly hidden hole in the floor.

  “Looking for you? Why would we be?” When Bane took a step, the nearest man aimed. “Don’t move. How do I know you’re Bane?”

  “That’s not the question you should be asking,” replied Bane. “How did I know where to find you is what’s important.” Father! “Now either shoot me or run. Because whoever it is probably knows you’re here.”

  The words were barely spoken when there was a snap and sizzle of mana. Bane was lifted from his feet and hurled back several yards as an enormous hole was blasted into the front of the building, pelting him with shards of glass and bits of masonry. Though deflected by the spell, the impact was enough to hurt terribly. Dust filled the air as the sound of gunfire erupted. He glanced over to the men from Exodus who were sprawled on the floor, and without protection, badly stunned.

  Bane scrambled up. “Sorry, guys.” He bolted for the rear door, drawing as much mana as he could bear. He cast a raw force spell at the base of the wall at the corner left of the exit. The brick shattered, creating a five-foot hole and sending projectiles into anyone who might be on the other side. A bullet pinged at his feet, urging him to move faster. The dust behind him was clearing, and they would have a clear shot in a few more seconds.

  The rear door flew open just as Bane ducked through the hole. A dozen or more magistrate officers were standing only a few yards away, some covering their faces from the blast and a few flat on their backs, struggling to rise. Those far enough away to not be affected opened fire, and a bullet struck his left arm and right shoulder. The protection spell absorbed most of the impact, but Bane knew a few more would collapse the spell and leave him completely exposed.

  But this wasn’t the first time he’d been outnumbered. He waved his arm in a wide circle, the mana manipulated instinctively. A ring of flames sprang up, containing the men and eliciting panicked screams, though not from injury. Despite his reputation, he only killed when he had to. This would hold them more than long enough to get away.

  A few more rounds struck the wall, but the fire prevented anything more than blind attacks. As fast as his legs could carry him, Bane ran back in the direction of Shel. Shouts raised the alarm as the officers in front of the building spotted his escape.

  The next building was in ruins, with only two of its walls intact. He rounded the nearest corner and halted. He hated casting this spell. But they would have their vehicles ready and could make it to Shel ahead of him. This was confirmed by the slamming of doors. He concentrated on centering the mana, muttering the mantra of hellfire. Pain ripped through his extremities as he loosed a stream of what he could only describe as molten mana at the roadway. Anyone trying to pass through would be consumed in seconds.

  By the time he reached Shel, his lungs were burning as fiercely as the muscles in his legs.

  He had to get to his father.

  “Well done, Samuel,” came a voice from near the road.

  Bane spun around, recognizing the man at once. “Raphael.” Dressed in the robes of the headmaster, he was grayer than Bane remembered. His round face and narrow eyes disguised his foul nature with an almost comical appearance.

  “You should stop now,” he said, hands folded at his waist. “Who knows? You might even survive this.”

  “I might,” said Bane, mana raging through him. Although he had wanted to face this man for years, now wasn’t the time. “But if you stand in my way, you won’t.”

  Raphael chuckled derisively. “You always did have a high opinion of your own talents.”

  Bane’s arms shot out, and a thin line of red mana leapt from his index fingers. Raphael had predictably cast protection spells. But the mana did not strike him directly; rather it sank into the ground at his feet. The concrete swelled rapidly, throwing him off balance. Bane followed this with a ball of light that exploded when halfway between them. The concussion was directed forward and sent the headmaster hard onto his back, sliding several feet.

  Bane turned and reached for Shel’s door handle. But Raphael recovered more quickly than expected. Five spikes materialized and streaked toward him. Bane dove onto Shel’s hood, but one struck him in the right leg just above the knee. His protection, though able to repel bullets, was ineffective against mana-created projectiles. A deep gash opened up, and he rolled off the hood gripping his wound.

  Forcing back the pain, he drew in more mana, casting a sphere around himself just as Raphael caused lances of fire to rain down from above. One made it through, hitting him on the left arm. He sucked his teeth as a finger-sized burn ate through his clothing, scorching his flesh.

  “Give up,” called Raphael. “I don’t want to kill you.”

  “You should,” said Bane, through gritted teeth. He was not about to fall to this sad excuse for a mage.

  Summoning all the strength he could muster, Bane pressed himse
lf up and spread his arms wide. Raphael’s hands glowed yellow, the next attacked already prepared. Bane grinned. There was no doubt the headmaster was powerful. But he was also predictable. Bane had seen him use this on students countless times. Though unlike in a sparring match, this would not be restrained, but fully capable of killing. But it didn’t matter. Bane was ready.

  Raphael slammed his hands together, and two shimmering walls of light appeared on either side of Bane. Bane could feel the pressure crushing in, trapping him in a blink. In seconds, he would be turned to pulp. But only if he did nothing.

  Instead than fighting the pressure, he simply cast an identical spell just inside the confines of the attack, rendering it harmless. Bane then limped back a pace and countered with a barrage of tiny sparks of lightning from all ten fingers. Individually, they weren’t particularly powerful, but aimed carefully they were devastating to a protection spell. The headmaster’s eyes shot wide as he realized his peril.

  Bane wanted to gloat. In years past he likely would have, but he was no longer the arrogant youth Raphael still took him for. A short burst of focused mana aimed at his chest ended the contest. Raphael collapsed in a heap, his body jerking and twitching, but still alive.

  Bane allowed himself only a few words. “If my father’s hurt, I’ll come back and kill every one of you bastards. Starting with you.”

  He slid into Shel and fired the engine. The hellfire was still burning, with four vehicles lined up behind it. Bane pressed the accelerator to the floor and was back at the garage in minutes.

  One of the beat-up vehicles from the bay was now parked in front, and a lone woman in gray coveralls was standing at the driver’s side door. Bane screeched to a halt and jumped out, poised to fight.

  “Where’s my father?” he demanded.

  She held up a palm. “Calm down. Your father is safe. But we need to hurry before the magistrate officers get here.”

  “Who the hell are you?” “I’m with Exodus.”

  “How do I know that?”

  The woman glanced anxiously down the road. “You don’t. But unless you’d rather wait for the magistrate to get here, you’ll have to trust me.”

  “Then we’ll take my car.”

  The woman grimaced. “No. You need to follow me.”

  Bane’s hand shot out, and a streak of lightning struck the hood of the woman’s car. A series of cracks and pops followed by smoke sifting from the undercarriage said that the debate was over. She shot him a furious look, then with a grunt entered on Shel’s passenger’s side.

  As Bane pulled away, he gave her a sideways stare. “If you’re lying, or if you’ve done something to my father, I’ll kill you.”

  “Good thing I’m not, then.”

  “How did you know where I’d go?”

  “I didn’t,” she replied. “When we saw the magistrate moving in, I contacted Zara. She told me to get your father out of there and wait for you. She was surprised you were still alive.”

  “So am I. But then the day’s not over yet.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Linx hated the palace. She hated the way people walked around in silence, as if laughter were vulgar and smiles ugly. She hated the way the servants timidly lowered their eyes, treating the nobles as if they were somehow better, rather than made from the same flesh as everyone else. She even hated the temperature. Too cold.

  Most nights she spent in her lower city apartment, but on certain occasions she had to remain in Upper Troi, mostly when the king was feeling particularly paranoid. He would ramble for hours about who was plotting against him and who must be “dealt with.” Xavier was always at the top of the list. But as one of the counted few aware of the king’s ultimate goal and willing to help, any threats were empty. Salazar needed him…for now.

  He had taken action against a few of the nobles. Not directly, of course. But more frequently his enemies were finding themselves at the heart of scandal. Most of the time they were, in fact, guilty. But if not, with a word to Xavier, it was easy enough to manufacture evidence. Two were locked away this very moment awaiting trial for skimming money from the recycling plant. They would be found guilty; of that there was no doubt. And they would be locked away until such time as their family paid back what was stolen. The sum would be far more than even a noble could afford. Or if they could, it would bankrupt them.

  The lift opened and two acolytes of the high mages stepped out. They ignored her completely. But then they ignored everyone who wasn’t a high mage. The urge to reach out and rip the hoods from their heads was nearly overwhelming.

  As she stepped in, Linx shut her eyes and steadied her breathing. This was to be a decisive meeting. Risking what she had by freeing Bane had nearly driven her into a panic attack. How did

  Xavier do it? Every move calculated, yet one wrong step would spell disaster. Maybe he wasn’t as confident as he presented himself. It would be nice to know that he was just as frazzled inside as she.

  The lift stopped, and Linx pressed her thumb to the mana pad. Only a few people were permitted on this level without a royal guard escort, and she was one of them. The door hissed open and she stepped into the circular antechamber. The floor was a mosaic of the whole of Vale, from the barrier to Troi. The walls were polished silver with portraits of the line of kings and queens hanging from the lift to midway around the room. Salazar had told her that there was three times the number, but the twenty hanging were the most revered, his father being the newest edition. Did it bother him? she wondered. To look upon the face of the man he’d murdered? The man who raised and loved him?

  The door to the king’s private study opened as she drew near. This was by far her least favorite room. The elegant furnishings and décor, while beautiful, seemed out of place given the sinister nature of the business conducted there. Here was where the king had made his plans for the coming slaughter of innocent people.

  As anticipated, Xavier was already present, sitting on a chair across from Salazar, sipping a glass of wine with a smug grin. Conversely, Salazar wore a grim expression.

  Linx crossed the room and bowed to the king. “You called for me?”

  “Please, sit,” he replied, pointing to a chair beside Xavier. Once she was seated, he continued. “Lord Xavier has just presented me with some disturbing evidence.”

  “Is that so?” She glanced over to Xavier. “What kind of evidence, Your Highness?” “A holovid showing you helping Samuel Freidman escape.”

  “I see.” She leaned forward, pressing her elbows to her knees. “And you believe it’s real?”

  “It appears to be,” the king replied.

  “You deny it?” added Xavier calmly, with the bearing of absolute self-assurance. Linx paused, then smiled over to Xavier. “Not at all.”

  Xavier raised an eyebrow. “So you freely admit to treason?” “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “You had better explain yourself,” said Salazar. “Samuel Freidman is with Exodus. Why would you let him go?”

  Linx leaned back and retrieved a holodisk from her pocket. “To get my hands on this.” Xavier sniffed. “What do you think you have that would excuse your treachery?”

  “I wouldn’t talk about treachery if I were you,” she said, hoping her fear was not surfacing

  . “I mean, after all, you’re the one who blackmailed the king into elevating you to the nobility. Of course, now that I have this, I think you’ll find you don’t have any more leverage to bargain with.”

  Xavier laughed. “You told her? How unexpectedly delightful that you would confide in her this way. But I’m afraid that does not explain away what you did. Sneaking into my home and finding the disk would not require you to help Bane escape.”

  “That’s true,” she admitted. “But then I was sure that you kept more than one copy. Someone like you always has a backup. Somewhere secret and safe where no one would think to look. Somewhere to keep all the dirty little secrets tucked away. But where would that be?”

  Xavier�
�s demeanor changed ever so slightly. “She’s wasting time, Your Highness.”

  Linx turned to face Xavier fully. “Why do you think I let it slip out that I had the first disk? So that you would use the holovid you had of me and Samuel against me. So that I could get you here, unarmed and alone. As the king’s magic is more than a match for an unarmed royal guard, I had to be sure we were somewhere no one is permitted to carry weapons.”

  He looked to the king, who was silently gauging what was unfolding. “She’s speaking nonsense, Your Highness. You saw the holovid. There should be no more discussion on the matter.”

  Linx smiled, retrieved a second disk, and held it up, twirling it between her fingers. “I have to admit, you’re clever. Hiding the backup at the College of Mages was brilliant. Had I not followed you, I would have never guessed. A pity you weren’t more courteous to the professors. They were more than happy to help.”

  The color drained from Xavier’s face. “You’re lying.”

  Linx stood and handed the disks to the king. “I am sorry I had to let Samuel escape to get my hands on this. I accept any punishment you deem appropriate.”

  Salazar smirked. “I’ll give it my full consideration.” His eyes darkened as they fixed on Xavier. “As for you, my friend… I think we need to have a private discussion regarding your future.”