by PT Hylton
A rough voice interrupted his peaceful thoughts. “You there. Stop!”
Captain Roy and Benjamin exchanged annoyed glances, but they did as they were told.
A young man who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five marched up to them. He wore his long hair tied back, and he carried himself with the confidence of someone in authority.
Jarvi stepped forward and met him with a smile. “Good evening, sir. What can we do for you this fine night?”
The man grimaced. “You can tell me what the hell you’re doing out past midnight. Do you have official business?”
Jarvi paused a moment. “Our business is our own, but I assure you we mean no harm. We’re simply on our way to visit a friend.”
“Not anymore, you’re not. You’re out past curfew without approval. That means I have to take you into custody. The good news for you is, you’ll be accepted into Algon’s service. You can learn magic. Or, if that doesn’t work out, you can always—”
“That’s not going to happen.” Benjamin had had enough of this. They’d traveled a long way, and he didn’t have the patience for this nonsense. “We’re not hurting anyone, and we weren’t aware of any curfew. Stand aside and let us go about our business.”
“Ignorance of the law is not an excuse.”
Benjamin put his hand on his sword. “I said, ‘Stand aside.’”
The man let out a small laugh. “You really have no idea who I am, do you? I’m one of the Faithful.” He raised a fist, and his eyes went black. Suddenly, flames burst from his hand, engulfing his fist. “Now come with me, or I’ll burn the lot of you to ash.”
That was all the answer Benjamin needed. He drew his sword and drove it through the man’s chest without another word.
No one said anything for a long moment.
Finally Hilde spoke. “We’ve been here, what, fifteen minutes, and already we’ve killed a fire-magic user. We’re off to a great start.”
Clemens shrugged. “You travel with these guys a little while and you get used to it.”
Benjamin cleaned his sword on the man’s cloak. He’d never seen fire magic used the way that man had. What was going on in Algon?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Fannar and his team huddled in a crag Gideon had shaped for them, peering down at the Barskall camp.
Olaf shook his head and repeated the question he’d asked at least twice before in the hours they’d been hiding in their spot. “Have you ever seen so many Barskall in one place?”
Fannar raised an eyebrow. “I grew up in Barskall, so yeah.”
But in truth, Fannar wasn’t sure. The Barskall naval fleet they’d battled in the Farrows had probably been bigger than this, but not by much.
He’d expected the camp to be large, but not this large. How long had Captain Tor and his allies been hauling Barskall warriors across the sea? How many trips must it have taken to get this many of them to Kaldfell? And how had Dahlia convinced them to remain peaceful for so long?
Looking down at the group sent a chill through Fannar. It made him doubt not only his own mission, but also the future of Holdgate itself. If an army this large attacked, how would the city survive?
It also raised the question of why the Barskall were waiting to attack. What was Simon planning to do that couldn’t be accomplished with a force this size?
They’d been watching the camp since midafternoon. Now it was the middle of the night, and Fannar’s hope that the defenses would lighten a bit was proving accurate. A few of the fires around the perimeter of the camp had gone out, and no one was bothering to relight them.
In short, the guards were getting sloppy. That probably meant they were tired.
Fannar turned to his companions. “It’s time.”
Elliot’s brow furrowed with worry. “Are you sure about this?”
The Barskall nodded. “It has to be this way. If I’m caught alone, at least I stand a chance. But if you all are with me? A bunch of non-Barskall? We’re all dead.”
“You might be right,” Gideon observed, “but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Fannar shrugged and smiled. “I can live with that.”
Olaf put a hand on the Barskall’s shoulder. “Good luck, man. You can do this.”
Fannar was genuinely touched by Olaf’s words; he’d never heard him say anything encouraging before. “Thank you, my friend.” He turned to the others. “Remember what you promised. If things go badly for me, get the hell out of here. Find your way back to Holdgate and warn them.”
Even though they knew it would likely mean Simon would kill the rest of their crew, they’d agreed, after seeing the size of the Barskall army, that Holdgate needed to be warned. Assuming they could find their way there.
But first, Fannar would give this his best shot. He’d attempt to sneak into the camp and assassinate the warlord Eril. After everything the warlord had done, he certainly deserved it.
Fannar said his goodbyes and made his way down the stone steps Gideon had fashioned. When he reached the bottom, he headed for one of the spots where the campfires had gone out.
He tried not to think about what would happen if he failed, both to him and his friends. He tried not to consider the painful death that might await him. He tried not to think about the odds of him being able to escape the camp with the warlord’s hand even if he did manage to sneak in there and kill him.
Instead, he focused on the task at hand: to get into the camp without being noticed. That was his only goal in life. Once he accomplished that, he’d allow himself to think about next step.
He waited, crouching in the brush outside the camp, watching the spot where he intended to enter. The fire that had burned there was nothing more than a pile of dimly glowing embers now, and there wasn’t a guard in sight. After he’d waited twenty minutes and seen no movement, Fannar decided it was time to go for it.
He moved as quickly and quietly as possible, stepping out of the brush into the clearing with no hesitation. A few moments later he passed the firepit; he was officially inside the camp.
Just another twenty yards and he’d be past the perimeter, and then he’d easily be able to lose himself in the camp.
“You there! Stop!”
The voice had come from in front of him. It was a guard, stationed near a tent close to the extinguished fire.
Fannar silently cursed. His view of the guard had been obstructed by the tent when he’d been hiding in the brush. He was just about to turn and run when another voice came from his left.
“You got something?”
“I sure do,” the first voice answered. “And he’d better not move an inch from where he’s standing, or I’ll cut him in half.”
Fannar froze as a third voice called out. They had him flanked. He quickly ran through the possibilities in his mind. What were the odds he could take down these three men? More importantly, could he do it quietly enough that it wouldn’t bring even more guards running?
The honest answer to that question was no.
“What have I been telling you, boys?” the first guard asked as the other two reached him. “You let your fire go out, you don’t ruin your night vision. A sneaky bastard like this tries to breach camp, you spot him. If he would have tried to get in near one of your stations, you would have been so blind from your damn fires you wouldn’t have seen him.”
Fannar grimaced.
The second guard walked up to him. “What the hell were you doing outside camp, soldier?”
“Sorry, sir,” Fannar said. “I was just getting some air. I didn’t realize how far I’d wandered.”
“Check that out,” the third guard said, gesturing to the weapon on Fannar’s belt.
“Holy hell,” the first guard exclaimed. “Is that a seax? I haven’t seen one of those in years.”
The second guard nudged Fannar. “You know how Eril feels about traditional weapons. You too good to carry a sword like the rest of us?”
Fannar didn’t answer.
“Something ain’t right, here,” the first guard observed. “I say we throw in him the brig until morning. Let the sergeants figure it out.”
The others murmured agreement.
Fannar held up his hands. “I must say, gentlemen, I’m impressed. I thought I’d be able to waltz in here and head straight for Eril’s tent, but you’ve done yourselves proud today.”
The second guard put a hand on his sword. “What’s he talking about?”
Fannar sighed in resignation. “Okay, listen. I’m not supposed to say anything about this, but clearly you boys can be trusted. The truth is, I’m a spy. Eril sent me to Holdgate. I’ve been there for weeks. But something’s happened in the city, and I need to speak with Eril immediately.”
“I say we stick with the brig plan,” the first one said. “If he’s telling the truth, Eril will confirm his story and he can pass along his information then.”
“This can’t wait until morning,” Fannar insisted.
The guards looked at each other for a long moment.
Finally the first guard grabbed his arm. “Fine. I’ll pass it up through the chain of command. You better not be lying, or it will be all our heads.”
***
Hekla smiled as they approached the ancient building. “We’re doing something straightforward for once.”
“Just do your best not to kill any students,” Abbey requested. “Remember many of them were duped into this.”
“Don’t worry,” the Barskall woman said. “I’ll only slice up the firehand people.”
They reached the building, the oldest in Algon from what Abbey’s father had told her, and stopped. This was the real reason they’d come to Algon. This building contained the thing that could hurt Simon—or so the firehand on the wreck of Wave Break had claimed.
Dustin drew in a deep breath. “Ah, invading a magic school. This brings back memories.”
“At least this one’s not on top of a mountain,” Abbey observed. She turned to her companions. “You ready to do this?”
They both confirmed that they were.
Abbey drew a deep breath and knocked on the door.
They waited in silence for a long while. Finally, the door creaked open and a blurry-eyed woman stuck her head out the narrow opening.
“Hi,” Abbey said cheerily. “We’d like to enroll.”
The woman blinked hard a few times. Clearly she wasn’t fully awake yet. “Now? No, I’m sorry. It will be morning in a few hours. Come back then.”
“Sorry, can’t do that. We’re shipping out at first light. It’s either enroll us now or lose us forever.”
Also, in the morning there would be far more people around and getting to their target would be much more difficult. But she didn’t feel the need to add that.
The woman at the door hesitated. “I… Can you wait here a moment? I need to get my superior.”
Abbey wedged herself in the open doorway and raised the hand that had been holding her sword behind her back. “I’m afraid we cannot wait here a moment. We need to come inside now.”
The woman’s gaze was fixed on the tip of Abbey’s blade, which was pointed at her throat. She suddenly looked much more alert, and took a step back, allowing them to enter.
Dustin was the last to step inside, and he eased the door shut behind him.
Abbey scanned the room with her eyes, trying to get her bearings. This had been some sort of religious gathering place before the Mad Days, she knew. The entryway they were standing in was absolutely massive and utterly beautiful. Seeing this place made her even more angry that Simon and his Faithful were using it for such an evil purpose.
She turned back to the woman. “We’re looking for a man named Carter.”
The woman hesitated just a bit too long before answering, “There’s no one here by that name.”
Abbey took a step forward. “Now see, that’s a problem because I simply don’t believe you. We have it from a very reliable source that he is here. The person who told us that was very motivated.”
“It’s true,” Hekla confirmed. “He was bleeding everywhere.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do. If Simon finds out I took you to Carter—”
“Not to sound cold,” Abbey interrupted, “but Simon’s not here. We are. Whatever Simon might do to punish you is days, maybe weeks away. You seem like a clever girl. I’m sure you can be somewhere else before he gets back here. We, on the other hand, are here right now. And we’ve been known to be very convincing.”
Dustin closed his eyes and gripped his staff. Thunder crashed loudly overhead.
“Nice effect,” Hekla said softly.
He glared at her. “Thanks, but wait until we’re done with the intimidation before complimenting me next time.”
Abbey ignored them both, keeping her eyes fixed on the woman. “So what’s it going to be? Definite pain now, or the threat of possible pain later?”
The woman stammered a moment. “Okay, listen… I’ll take you to Carter on one condition. As soon as I show you to his room, I’m leaving this place forever. Don’t come after me.”
Abbey nodded quickly. “Our business with you is done the moment we see Carter’s face.”
She paused, thinking. “Fine. We have ourselves a deal. Follow me, and try to keep quiet. Anyone else catches us, the deal’s off.”
She led them up a long and winding staircase. As they climbed Abbey caught views of the floors they were bypassing, all of them illuminated by magitech lights mounted on the walls. On the second floor she saw what must have been a massive classroom. It had seats for at least one hundred people.
Having learned magic from her father one-on-one, she wondered what it must be like to study it in such a large group. Would it be more difficult because of the lack of teacher attention, or would it be easier with students everywhere, encouraging and competing with one another?
She supposed it didn’t matter much. Every one of the seats was empty now. She wondered where they kept all the students at night. Did they sleep in this building, or somewhere else?
The next floor they passed was another large room, but it had been divided into sections. Places for the teachers to plan their lessons, maybe?
The third floor contained a hallway lined with numerous doors. She wondered if these were the bedrooms the students stayed in.
Finally, on the fourth floor, the woman stepped onto the landing and turned to them. “This is it.”
She led them to a large oak door at the end of the hall. After raising her fist, she stopped and turned to Abbey. “Are you certain you wish to speak to him?”
“I’m certain.”
The woman swallowed hard, then knocked.
They heard movement on the other side of the door, then a deep voice said, “Come.”
She pulled a keyring out of the bag on her shoulder with a shaky hand. It took her four tries before she found the correct key. She unlocked the door and swung it open.
Leaving the keyring dangling from the lock, she gave Abbey a little nod. “Good luck. I hope you find some joy before Simon kills you.”
With that, she turned and scurried down the hall.
“Well, who’s there?” the man asked. “Step into the light so I can see you.”
Despite the early hour, Carter sat in a chair in front of huge window that reached nearly floor to ceiling. In the strange pallor of the moonlight, it was difficult for Abbey to determine his age, but he certainly bore more than a passing resemblance to Simon.
She walked into the room and stepped into the moonlight coming through the window.
“My name is Abbey. I need to talk to you about your son.”
He glared at her for a long moment. But the longer he stared the more his expression softened, until he was finally smiling. “Why, I know who you are. You’re Lara’s daughter. Please, join me! I have so much to tell you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Fannar waited outside for
over an hour. They held him at swordpoint, refusing to let him sit. The longer he waited, the surer he became that his ruse hadn’t worked.
It had been a desperate gambit anyway. The best possible result still would have ended up with him dead. Even if he had been able to take Eril with him, there was no way he’d have been able to get the warlord’s hand back to Simon.
It was a little late to back out of it now, though. So he waited, his legs stiff from the lack of movement and his body tense with thoughts of what might happen next.
The original three guards had long ago been replaced by people who, judging by the quality of the weapons they carried, were much more important.
Finally, about an hour before sunrise, a woman Fannar had never seen before appeared and greeted him with a smile. “Warlord Eril will see you now.”
His heart beat fast in his chest as they led him down the dirt path between countless tents to a much larger one at the end of the row. They’d taken his seax, but at least his hands weren’t bound. That was an improvement over the way things had been aboard Simon’s ship.
Still, he was weaponless, which meant attempting to kill Eril was probably out. Maybe he could tell Eril about his mission and find a way to play the two leaders against each other. But if he did that he’d be admitting he had come here to kill Eril, and he couldn’t imagine that ending well for him.
The woman pushed the tent flap open and Fannar stepped inside, flanked by a guard on either side.
A huge man sat on a throne at the end of the long tent. He glared at Fannar as he approached.
“So you’re the one who got me out of bed in the middle of the night claiming to be my spy. I can’t decide whether I’m angry or impressed. Are you even a real Barskall, or is that seax we found you with a prop?”
Fannar forced himself to answer confidently. “It’s real, and so am I. I was born and raised in southern Barskall. Conscripted to the king’s army and tested on seiderdrek.”
“Hmm. You’re a deserter, then.”
In truth Fannar was a lot worse than that, but he wasn’t about to mention it.