“If you mean that weakling that was following you guys, then yes. Any trouble, sis?”
“No, either they don’t have enough people to guard the prisoners and set proper patrols, or they’re idiots. I overheard them talking. They’re after Uncle Andy and the archmage. Beyond that I have no idea what they’re planning.”
“Maybe the archmage will know,” Imogen said.
“Let’s go get her and find out,” Uncle Andy said. “Damien?”
He conjured the chariot, a little larger this time, and followed Imogen southeast. No way was his master going to be happy about needing a rescue.
Chapter Ten
The royal apartment had never seemed especially small to Karrie before today. The fine furnishings, her own bedroom with its four-poster bed, the soft leather chairs and sofa in the living room, all of it seemed perfect. That was before it became the finest prison suite ever.
When the Crimson Legion sorcerer had come to the door and warned her and her mother not to leave she’d feared the city was under attack. The muffled explosions that had sounded later only helped confirm her fears. When the city finally fell silent she’d expected someone to come and offer an explanation.
She had lost track of how many hours had passed, but the sun had set and still nothing. The one time she’d tried to leave the sorcerer outside had ordered her back inside. Ordered her, the crown princess. The number of people that could give her orders consisted of her parents and maybe the archmage in an emergency.
When she informed him of that and took a step into the hall, the sorcerer had started to glow and he told her in no uncertain terms that she was to go inside and stay there. From the look in his eyes she had no doubts that he would have struck her had she refused.
The surprise of it left her stunned for a moment. When she recovered she hurried back inside and told her mother, who seemed surprisingly calm about the situation. Only the tightening around her eyes gave away how angry her mother had been and no one that didn’t know her well would have noticed.
Karrie rolled off her bed and stalked down to the sewing room. She pushed the door open and found her mother embroidering bluebells on one of Karrie’s dresses. The scene looked so ordinary you never would have guessed they were both prisoners.
“How can you be so calm?” Karrie asked. “It’s a coup. We could be killed at any moment.”
Mom sighed and set her sewing aside. “Don’t be so dramatic, dear. If they meant to kill us, we’d be dead by now.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel better you’re doing a poor job.”
Mom patted the spare chair and Karrie dropped into it. “Royalty is too valuable to be killed out of hand. We serve as a way to guarantee your father’s good behavior. If he’s fallen, which I seriously doubt, then you’ll make a useful puppet ruler. Either way, we’re more valuable alive.”
“If they want to use us to manipulate Dad, then we need to find some way to escape. How come we don’t have a secret tunnel or something?”
“You’ve read too many stories.” Her mother smiled. “A secret passage is just another way for an assassin to sneak in and kill us in our sleep. One exit is easier to guard, which usually keeps us safe. I don’t believe whichever of your ancestors designed the apartment counted on his most trusted guards turning against him. He must have been unusually idealistic for a noble.”
Karrie choked off a scream. Couldn’t her mother at least show a little emotion? “So what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to bide our time and survive. When the moment comes, and it will come, we will be ready. Our enemies will never expect it from a pair of meek, cowed women.” Mom bared her teeth. “We will make them suffer for this indignity, Karrie. You have my word.”
Karrie shivered, glad her mother never got that mad at her.
Someone rapped at the door and they shared a look. Mom rose and quirked an eyebrow. “Seems we have guests. Shall we greet them like proper ladies?”
Karrie would have liked to greet them with a loaded crossbow, but she didn’t have one. “I guess.”
“Remember, meek and resigned. Don’t give them a reason to be on guard.”
Karrie nodded and followed her mother out to the door. She’d never been meek in her entire life. How was she supposed to manage it now?
Mom opened the door, and outside stood the hulking form of Nathanial, the archmage’s second-in-command, and Duke Carmichael, who oversaw the western quarter of the kingdom. A tall, slim, elegant man of about fifty, Carmichael wore blue-and-black silk.
Karrie had never spoken to the man though she’d seen him once or twice at court. He spent most of his time in Port Valcane. In addition to being a duke, he had vast merchant interests and a fortune that probably eclipsed the royal treasury. What in the world was he doing here?
“Duke Carmichael,” Mom said. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Audra, you’re looking radiant as ever.” Duke Carmichael had a smooth, rich tone of voice that seemed to lull you to sleep. “And Karrie as well. A pleasure to finally meet you, Princess.”
Karrie nodded, not trusting herself to speak with a civil tongue.
“Won’t you come in?” Mom stepped aside so Nathanial and the duke could enter.
“Thank you.” Carmichael entered and looked around as though calculating the furniture’s value. “I won’t keep you long. I thought you’d be curious about the ruckus earlier today. There’s been a change in rule in this kingdom.”
“Oh?” Mom cocked her head. “I wasn’t aware my husband had abdicated.”
Carmichael chuckled. “Alas, our first attempt to force his removal from power failed.”
Nathanial muttered something, but fell silent when the duke sent him a sharp look.
“Anyway,” Duke Carmichael continued, “plans have been made for the transition. Karrie will marry my son who will rule as king. Of course all of us will be subservient to the Binder in Chains. His glory will spread across the whole of the world and we who served loyally will reap the greatest rewards.”
Karrie bit her lip to keep from screaming. As if her father would let him get away with this crazy scheme.
“I’m not entirely certain I understand,” Mom said. “What does the archangel have to do with anything?”
“He is here.” Carmichael’s face took on this awed, wide-eyed expression. “The Binder has come to the mortal world to bring order. He is beginning his work in the Old Empire, but when he finishes he will cross the ocean. We who are his loyal followers will welcome him and make a gift of the kingdom. Then when he moves on we shall rule in his name.”
The duke was insane. That little speech washed away any doubts Karrie harbored. Their fate rested in the hands of a lunatic. For the first time fear overcame anger.
“Thank you for the explanation.” Mom’s expression remained serene. “What happens now?”
“You two will remain under our protection until we have dealt with King Andrew. Once that bit of unpleasantness is handled, we’ll have a big, royal wedding. I think you’ll like my son, Princess. He’s a bit older than you, but there’s no helping that. After the wedding he’ll see to the kingdom’s operation. All you need to do is sit quietly at his side and agree with whatever he says. Simple enough, right?”
Something snapped in Karrie. “Sit quietly and agree? You expect me to let some stranger rule my kingdom? You stupid, arrogant man. Our wedding night will be the last of his life, I promise you. And the idea that you could even kill my father is a joke. Just like this stupid scheme of yours. Both your heads will be decorating the castle wall by the end of the month, mark my words.”
“I will kill him!” Nathanial roared. “For the Binder’s glory.”
Karrie’s laugh was bitter and humorless. “You’re going to defeat Damien and the archmage? Clearly you’re more deluded than your master.”
Nathanial’s hand glowed and something clamped around Karrie’s throat. She gasped and clawed, but it
was like trying to scratch steel.
“He won’t fight if he knows your life is in the balance. That’s Damien’s weakness. He cares too much about others. With you as a hostage, he’s already beaten.”
The vice around her neck vanished and she stumbled to her knees. Her breaths came in ragged wheezes.
“You must forgive my companion. He has temper issues. We’ve taken up enough of your time. Good evening.” Duke Carmichael led the way out, closing the door behind them.
Karrie finally got back to her feet. “I guess I didn’t do so good at being meek.”
Her mother stroked her hair. “No. But now we know what they’re planning.”
Sure they did. But what could they do about it?
Chapter Eleven
Damien steered the chariot through the night sky guided by Imogen’s glowing form. The moon had risen half an hour ago, but it gave off little light. Only the whisper of the wind broke the silence. At least no one could sneak up on them.
Behind him Uncle Andy brooded while Jen did her best to cheer him up. With Karrie and her mother under threat, Damien doubted anything could improve the king’s mood. They needed a break in the worst way.
Al Elan inched up beside him. Dreamer’s chosen hadn’t had much to say since Jen brought him to their hiding place.
Damien flicked a glance his way. “Something on your mind?”
“Yes, this new power. There’s so much of it. Frankly, the thought of using it terrifies me. I feel like if I make a mistake I might kill innocent people by accident.”
Damien could relate to that fear. He’d lived with it since learning he was a sorcerer. “The first time I used Lizzy in combat I blasted flat an acre of trees with my first attack. Scared the hell out of me. There’s no easy way to master power like ours. You need practice and plenty of it, preferably somewhere without bystanders to get in the way.”
“I doubt we will have much time for practice given the state of the kingdom.”
“Can’t argue with you there. Still, you can work on little things when we’re not in life-or-death situations. Just something to get you used to drawing and manipulating external soul force. If it comes to a fight, think simple. Conjure yourself as dense a soul force blade as you can then use your power the same way you did as a warlord. With that divine power in you, you’re probably the strongest warlord in the kingdom.”
Al Elan got a thoughtful look. “I hadn’t considered simply augmenting the skills I already have, though that makes perfect sense. I feared I needed to learn a completely new skill set. One last question. How would I go about conjuring a sword?”
Damien looked back at Imogen, but she was still flying a straight course. They might have enough time for a quick lesson. “Let’s start with something simple. Hold your hand out, palm up, and picture a ball the size of your fist appearing.”
Al Elan held out his hand and scrunched up his face. Seconds passed and nothing happened. Finally he blew out a breath. “I can’t make it work.”
That was a familiar frustration. “Are you picturing it appearing out of thin air or are you trying to send the energy along your arm and out of your palm?”
“The latter. It’s how we were trained as knights to use our breath.”
“That’s how warlords are trained too. It doesn’t work for sorcerers. Try the other way.”
Al Elan gave him a dubious look, shrugged, and held his hand up again. Almost immediately a black sphere appeared.
The southerner beamed. “I did it!”
“Great. Now let it go.”
“Excuse me?”
“Stop the power flow so the ball vanishes.”
“Oh.” A moment later the construct disappeared. “Like that?”
“Exactly.” Damien grinned. “Keep doing that with different shapes and colors whenever you have a spare minute. Keep it simple at first then add complexity. After some practice you should be able to make a decent sword. Remember, the power becomes what you want, control your thoughts and control the power.”
Imogen is changing course.
“It is good to have something practical to do,” Al Elan said. “Thank you for providing me with some direction.”
Damien nodded. He didn’t consider himself much of a teacher, but if he just repeated the stuff he learned at the Tower maybe it would help Al Elan learn to use his power a little better.
For everyone’s sake, him getting the dragon’s power under control was a priority.
The chariot dove after Imogen into a twisting canyon. Damien had never visited this part of the kingdom. These were pretty crappy circumstances for a first time. Not that there was much to see from the little visible.
They swooped through a deep canyon and Imogen came to a stop right outside a shallow cave. His master’s soul force was barely detectible. Sloppy. She usually disappeared completely when she wanted to.
Damien landed and shouted, “Master?”
Something moved in the mouth of the cave. Damien conjured light, illuminating the archmage’s bedraggled figure. Her red robe was in tatters and her hair hung limp and dripping. Imogen was right, he’d never seen her in this bad a shape.
Damien flew to the cave mouth and scooped her up.
She gave him a weak swat on the chest. “I can walk.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Don’t be stubborn. You’ve had a rough day.”
“Fine, but don’t you dare tell anyone about this.”
Damien grinned as he carried her to the chariot. “Who’d believe me?”
He set her down beside Uncle Andy and returned to his position at the front of the chariot. “Where to?”
Everyone looked at everyone else then they all settled their gazes on the king. Damien didn’t know how he stood having to make so many important decisions. Maybe it was like waiting, practice made perfect.
At last Uncle Andy said, “It’s been about twenty years, but I assume the emergency shelter is still in usable condition. We could hole up there, at least for tonight.”
The archmage hung her head. “I must be more exhausted than I thought. I never even considered the shelter. That’s perfect since only you and I know about it.”
“Audra and Karrie as well,” Uncle Andy said. “But I’m sure they won’t say anything to their captors.”
“Especially since they won’t know we’re going there,” Jen said.
“Right. Somebody want to give me directions?” Damien asked.
Chapter Twelve
It took much of the night, but Binder at last reached the imperial capital. Even in this miserable time the city glowed with the light of thousands of lanterns. People were up and active around the clock. A faint smile quirked his lips. At least some things hadn’t changed during his long years of neglect.
He flew lower and at about three hundred feet the stench of sewage came rushing up to punch him in the nose. Most of it came from the Qui Long river that guarded the eastern side of the city. Though he couldn’t see it in the dark, Binder would have wagered much that the once clear waters now ran brown with the waste of the city.
The buildings on the edge of the city leaned or sagged, roofs had holes, and smoke poured from myriad chimneys, filling the sky with ash and soot. The wind carried the cries of starving children, abused women, and drunken men. It was like all the horrors of the empire had been dragged and compressed in this one city.
At least Binder would have liked to believe that, but he suspected that if he flew to one of the other large cities he’d find much the same assortment of horribles. Worst of all, for all his power, he couldn’t fix them. Even an archangel couldn’t be everywhere at once.
Forcing all but the task at hand from his mind, Binder flew toward the center of the city where the palace waited. It sprawled over thirty blocks and consisted of scores of buildings, gardens, and covered walkways. Once thousands had called the palace home, now he sensed no life within. What a waste.
Outside, near the main gate, ten men and three women waited
in the warm glow of a trio of lanterns. When he got close their devotion washed over him. His followers had come as he instructed. Though Binder had expected far more than this meager showing.
He landed and snapped his wings closed. The humans all took a knee.
“Master,” said a woman with a wrinkled, weathered face. “Welcome to the empire, such as it is. We await your command.”
“Rise and attend,” Binder said. “Where are the rest of my followers?”
She shook her head. “After the final emperor was assassinated, your cult fell out of favor. The satraps declared anyone that worshipped you to be an imperialist. Suspected imperialists are hanged without trial. It’s one of the few things all the satraps agree on.”
That explained his lack of followers at least. Few were devoted enough to risk the noose for their beliefs. “What is your name?” Binder asked.
“Ling, Master.”
“What of the palace? Surely some enterprising satrap would have wanted to seize the throne for himself. Even if he couldn’t use the Throne of Chains, holding the palace would be a powerful symbol of authority.”
“That is another thing they agree on. None may claim the palace or the title of emperor without facing the combined wrath of all the others.” Ling pointed and one of the men took a lantern closer to the gate.
A heavy wooden bar ran across the doors and held a clay seal marked with ancient imperial script that warned anyone attempting to open the portal that they would face death.
“The palace has been empty for centuries, Master,” Ling said.
It was time for a new emperor to take residence. Binder gestured and the seal shattered into a million pieces and fell to the ground along with the splinters of the bar holding it. The doors creaked open revealing the primary courtyard. The grass was knee high and the trees, once finely sculpted and manicured, ran riot. It was a perfect symbol of the empire itself. Binder would set both to rights soon enough.
On Blackened Wings Page 5