by M. Dalto
Brynaxia had stopped listening the moment her head’s pounding had her doubling over in pain, holding both sides as if attempting to keep it from exploding.
Not only her head, but her chest ached, too, though a different kind of ache. The realization that she had been deceived, not only now but before…
Before she was here.
Before she had been brought back.
It was not the others who had wronged them, but Xavon who was using them for his own benefit. For what? What was he going to use her for now?
“Ah, I had assumed she would fight back, sooner or later,” Xavon mused as he walked around from behind his desk. “She has some fight in her, I’ll give her that. I’m impressed you lasted this long…”
“What…are you talking about?” Brynaxia breathed through the torment.
“It doesn’t matter now,” he surmised, staying just far enough away to render her helpless as she crumpled to her knees. “After what you did to Razen and Crystalia, perhaps there’s no longer a need to be gentle when dealing with you, though I must admit I never remembered such evil within you from before.”
Her emotions began to take over her intentions, and the pounding in her head matched the pounding in her heart. She had once again been betrayed and she was not going to allow anyone to take the world from her again. As the heat of her rage increased, the golden necklace around her neck, unceremoniously ripped from Treyan’s when he refused to explain to her how he came into its possession, began to glow and scorched her skin.
Xavon cleared the distance between them, surprise in his tone. “What are you doing? Brynaxia—where did you get that locket?”
With a scream, her power exploded from her head and her heart, channeled through the locket around her neck, and the world turned white.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jamison was still trying to piece together what Treyan’s locket had to do with correcting the course of the Empire’s future. Just as Leminol was about to deliver additional information, he stopped mid-sentence and looked toward one of the dirty glass windows.
The ethereal form stood there silently, staring. The intensity of the blue glow in his eyes almost made it seem like he was focusing on something further away…
“It has begun.”
“What has?” Jamison asked, but Leminol did not answer. Instead, the very world at their feet awoke, and the ground beneath them began to quake.
For the first time since his arrival, the form of Leminol began to flicker. “Take the Annals, return to the Empire—you need to be there before it ends.”
“Before what ends?” Dremond asked, but there was another shake.
“There is no time—you must go. Find the prince.”
“Treyan?” Jamison asked in a panic.
“No—not Treyan,” Leminol began, but another tremor, worse than the others, was so violent that it knocked both Jamison and Dremond to their knees.
“Go!” Leminol yelled again.
Jamison didn’t hesitate a moment longer. He rushed for the Annals, and as soon as he touched the leather cover, Leminol’s form disappeared.
Jamison wished they had more time to speak with the First Father of the Empire. There was so much more he could have told them, so many questions that still needed to be answered…
Another shake, and Jamison quelled his remorse. Together with the Annals, he and Dremond ran for the door.
Dimura and her mages were on their guard as they emerged from the castle. Jamison and Dremond quickly instructed them of their next step.
“We will need you to stay here, and prepare for the worst,” Jamison informed her as they walked toward the tree line. “We need to retrieve the Crown Prince before anything can befall the Empire’s palace.”
“What did he tell you?” she asked.
Jamison glanced at her. “You knew who would appear?”
“We know much,” she assured him. “Some more than others, especially those who listen.”
“You know what’s happening?”
Dimura shook her head. “The Empire is dark. The Fire and the Light must be restored to see the way again.”
“That’s what we intend to do,” Jamison promised, nodding to the large book in his arms. “We will return as soon as we’ve retrieved the prince, and once we’ve regrouped, we will advance.”
“And you will keep your promise.”
They had reached the thick overgrowth. Turning to face Dimura, he assessed the woman before him. There was a power to her, and a knowledge that left Jamison curious and wanting to know more. Even if he hadn’t made the promise to her, he’d have returned because of that alone.
“My Lady Dimura, I swear it on both the Fire and the Light.”
That seemed to please her, for a delicate smile, the first one Jamison had seen since meeting the mage, graced her lips.
He would have said more if not for another violent shaking of the ground under their feet.
“Let’s move,” Dremond insisted, and Jamison agreed.
Giving Dimura one final nod, he and Dremond moved through the overgrowth as quickly as they could, avoiding the falling branches and shifting roots that came with each tremor.
The horses were erratic by the time they arrived, and Jamison was surprised they hadn’t escaped from their tack to run off to safety. Grateful they had not, he secured the Annals in his saddlebag, checking and rechecking the straps’ buckles before hoisting himself up into the saddle and kicking his horse into a frenzied gallop.
They rode through the night, not resting until the palace came into view. There was no one on the road, no one to greet them, which was a blessing and a curse. No patrols meant they could arrive unannounced, but it also meant that could already be too late. By the lack of travelers, he hoped that meant their people were safe through the unprecedented quake, but also wished he knew how Treyan fared before he rushed into an obvious trap.
Walking straight through the main entrance, though it was unguarded, would have been suicide. Jamison led Dremond around the palace walls, toward the stables and servant entrances. At the least, they could keep up the guise of traveling through the palace undetected, though Jamison could not help but feel they were being watched.
“Let me take your pack,” Dremond offered, “so that you can better serve us by using your sword.”
Jamison was immediately on the defensive, slinging the saddlebag that contained the Annals over his shoulder, and faced Dremond head-on. “The contents in this bag are far more important than anything you could ever think of possessing. I’ll take the chance.”
Dremond scowled but didn’t press the issue further, and Jamison didn’t give him the chance as he led them through an older, mostly unused entrance that brought them through the dank and dingy dungeons.
“It smells like a stye down here,” Dremond gagged, covering his nose with his arm. “Do the royals not know about proper upkeep?”
“The royals haven’t been down here, and haven’t been the ones using them,” Jamison informed him. “We’ll just pass through and come around the other—”
“Jamison?”
The Captain stopped so short that Dremond walked into his back. “What are you—”
“Shh,” Jamison hissed. “Listen.”
“I don’t hear anything—”
“If you shut up, you will.”
“How dare you—”
“Jamison!” he heard again, and this time he was certain someone was calling out to him.
Moving along the line of cells, he stopped at one that looked more recently used than the rest, the door shut and bolted, and within…
“You would think the royal family could afford decent lighting,” Dremond grumbled as a torch came to light. Jamison would have cursed him for potentially giving away their position, if not for what that light illuminated inside the cell.
The figure shied away from the brilliance of the flame as if he hadn’t been in daylight for some time. Despite the dirt and th
e dinge, Jamison would know his Crown Prince anywhere.
“Treyan,” Jamison breathed, unable to keep the relief from his voice.
“Will someone put out that damn torch?” the prince hissed as he blinked in their direction.
“That damn torch found you,” Dremond scowled, but he stepped away from the cell to dim the light.
“Treyan, what’s happened?” Jamison asked quickly, though unable to keep the relief from his voice, as Treyan slowly climbed to his feet. He was much thinner than when last he saw him, and he tried his best not to look at the deep cuts and healing wounds slashed across his bare chest.
“We can discuss it later,” Treyan said hoarsely as he approached the bars. “Can you get me out? Do you have the keys?”
“How do you expect us to have the keys?” Dremond inquired.
“Because I do,” Jamison answered him, reaching into the other saddle bag to retrieve the ring of keys that opened every door within the palace.
“How do you have those?” Dremond demanded.
“Because I need someone I can trust to not lose them when I do,” Treyan interceded. “Jamison takes his job very seriously, even when the rest of the world is going to hell.”
Dremond scowled again as Jamison unlocked the cell door. Treyan had kept his eyes on the lord as his Captain released him.
“Lord Dremond, you’re looking as petulant as ever.”
“You’re looking even worse yourself,” Dremond quipped.
“Where’s Alex?” Jamison asked as Treyan emerged.
“Not Alex—not exactly, but we don’t have time for that now. We have to find the child.”
Jamison blinked. “What child?”
Treyan let out a breath. “Crystal had her baby, but did not survive the delivery. We can’t leave the child behind.”
“Okay, calm down,” Jamison urged as he could tell Treyan was becoming panicked. “We need to get you as far away as possible from this castle first.”
“We can’t leave yet; we have to find her.”
“Where?”
“In my old quarters,” Treyan said quietly, and there was a darkness in his gaze, even in the dim light, that Jamison did not miss.
He shared a look with Dremond that informed the Captain the lord did not miss it either before returning his attention to Treyan. “Will you be able to get yourself to safety?”
“Safety is my birth name,” Treyan assured him, though Jamison had his doubts.
A shake stronger than any they had felt yet had all three men clinging to whatever they could find to keep themselves upright.
“What is that?” Treyan hissed.
“I’d rather not be here when we find out,” Jamison murmured as he unshouldered one of the saddlebags, handing it to Treyan. “Take this and meet us at Dremond’s camp—do you remember the way?”
“What’s this?” Treyan asked as he carefully took the bag from his Captain.
“We found your Annals,” Dremond announced. “You’re welcome.”
Treyan’s eyes widened as Jamison nodded in confirmation.
Another shake had Jamison moving.
“Dremond, with me. Treyan, get your ass out of this palace.”
“Yes, Captain,” the prince saluted, but not before he gave Jamison a tight hug that conveyed both his appreciation and thanks.
Only once Jamison was certain Treyan would make it back to the horses without incident did he motion to Dremond and led him up into the palace.
Treyan waited until the light from Dremond’s torch disappeared up the stairs before igniting his own power source, though it was much weaker and duller than if he had been at his full strength. Still, it would be enough.
It would have to be.
He clutched Jamison’s saddlebag to his chest, afraid to let it go. He didn’t need to look inside to know the power that rested within his arms. Returning the Annals to the Empire was like a renewed sense of hope in its most corporeal form. With the Annals in hand, he knew they were on the right path to redemption. That what they had done—what he had done—to bring them to the brink of their own destruction would soon be reversed by the power their prophecy possessed.
However, even knowing that he had his Empire’s most prized possession back where it belonged, he couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not when he knew she was still there.
Alex. Brynaxia. It didn’t matter what her name was. It didn’t matter what had happened to him. What mattered was figuring out what had happened to his Queen Empress and using the book he held in his possession to discover how to bring her back.
He couldn’t do that by running away.
Treyan hadn’t lied to Jamison when he sent him to retrieve the newborn child. Treyan meant every word he said—that child had no place being with those people and needed to be as far away from them as possible. Trying to get to her himself would have been too much of a risk.
Voices pulled his attention down a hallway, stopping him at a closed door. There was no denying who was on the other side, and he would have opened the door if not for his curiosity at what was being said. Too soon, however, the surrounding air grew hot, and an unnatural light began to seep around the door’s edges.
His hand was already moving toward the handle, but the screaming from inside had him throwing the door open without further hesitation.
Treyan only had a moment to pick out the two forms in front of him—one standing, the other huddled on the floor—before the light within blinded him and he felt like he was falling.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sarayna’s screams rang out through the neighborhood, and Lexan feared that it would draw too much attention. Not that he wasn’t concerned for his sister’s wellbeing, but the less they needed to explain about who they were and what they were doing, the better off they would be. As it was, a man no older than Reylor emerged from the nearest apartment building, presumably Alara’s, as she stopped to announce they had arrived. His hair was dark, and his eyes the royal bright blue behind black-rimmed glasses. The family resemblance was almost uncanny, and it was confirmed as Alara called out to him.
“Seyth, hurry,” she pleaded, moving closer to Sarayna.
“What’s happening to her?” Jared asked, his tone panicked, and Lexan’s heart selfishly ached at Jared’s concern.
“Let’s get her inside,” Seyth said, picking up her feet and motioning for someone to hold her shoulders. “Hopefully we can find out.”
Jared did as instructed without hesitation while Lexan and Reylor followed Alara into the apartment. It was a two-story corner unit townhouse, and they assisted by holding doors and clearing off the couch while Seyth and Jared followed with Sarayna between them.
Sara continued to moan and whimper, the agony evident in the screams that erupted as she grabbed at her chest once she was laid on the couch.
Lexan felt useless, watching and not knowing what was happening or if there was anything he could do. Alara disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a bowl of water and a cloth, dipping it and running it over Sarayna’s brow as if it would somehow help ease the pain.
Seyth approached Sarayna, brushing his hair back and out of his face as he knelt on the floor next to her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her eyes were clenched shut against the pain, so she didn’t notice Seyth reaching his hand down the front of her shirt…but Jared did.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled, rushing toward the male.
Lexan was also watching, and he knew what Seyth was doing, even if the action appeared intrusive. Lexan had to hold Jared back to allow him to do what he needed to, and soon Jared stopped as the source of Sarayna’s discomfort came into view.
Seyth held the chain of the locket between two fingers as if it was too hot to touch. The pendant itself seemed to glow as if it was on fire. Even as it was moved away from Sarayna’s skin, she still screamed as if the agony went deeper than whatever the locket was doing to her.
“What’s happening?” Reylor asked as
Seyth hissed and dropped the locket back around Sarayna’s neck, shaking his hand as if in pain himself.
“We need to get them away from here,” he says to Alara, who nodded in agreement.
“Why?” Reylor asked, his concern growing with every word.
“Your golden child is about to live up to her name, but she can’t do it here. Too much will be at risk.” Seyth stood and turned to face the three of them. “You’ll need to get as far away from the city as you can—no one here needs to be a part of this.”
“Tallman Mountain,” Alara suggested, turning to her brother.
Seyth nodded in agreement. “The mountains will be best.”
“Why?” Lexan was growing impatient with the lack of explanation.
“Wherever you are going, no one else should follow.”
Another scream from Sarayna set them into action, and Lexan watched as the locket glowed brighter, feeling its heat from where he stood.
“We have to go.” Alara urged them toward the door. “Now.”
“What are you going to do?” Reylor was asking Seyth as Lexan and Jared gathered Sarayna between them, wrapping their arms around her as they guided her out.
“I’m going to do my best to protect this realm while you do your best to save yours.”
“We can continue this reunion once this is over,” Alara interjected before Reylor could ask anything else. Lexan and Jared stopped by the door, waiting for further instruction. Lexan watched as Alara gave Seyth a quick kiss on the cheek before motioning to Reylor again, his father hesitating. He could sense the questions he wanted to ask, the answers he needed to know as she urged them toward the door.
Another scream from Sarayna reminded them they didn’t have the time.