by Mason Thomas
And the fireplace was across the entire chamber. If it missed, all she would have to do was walk over and pick it up from the floor among broken shards of pottery.
But the vase flew straight. Like a cannonball.
It sailed level for about half the room before it began to arc toward the floor. The vase was heavier than a standard rugby ball. He’d misjudged the throw. He hadn’t thrown it hard enough and it wasn’t going to make it to the fireplace.
Hunter held his breath. The fake queen, too, watched with horror in her eyes as the vase cut across the room.
The vase hit the floor ten feet from the opening.
And bounced.
Hunter heard a crack. But somehow, miraculously, the vase didn’t shatter. A piece of it shot off at a tangential angle, but the integrity of the vase remained intact. It tumbled, flipping over several times, and Hunter waited for the hand to fly out of the opening. But nothing came out.
The vase hit the stone back of the fireplace and exploded in a shower of ceramic chips. The fire flared briefly—the small dry hand incinerating in an instant—and returned to normal as if nothing happened.
The fake queen stumbled back in disbelief. Her eyes were fixed on the fireplace, the blue energy fading from her fingertips. The transformation began immediately. The countenance of his beautiful mother contorted into features that were hard and stern. Deep lines cut around thin lips and narrow eyes. The skin fell ashen. His mother’s auburn hair turned black as coal, and horns twisted out of her temples.
“Now it’s over,” Hunter growled, stepping closer. A strange sense of relief washed over him. His mother’s image and memory were no longer being defiled by this wretched creature. She was gone, as it should be. “Even if you kill us, your con game is over.”
The Heneran sorceress glared at Hunter with seething hate. She said nothing in return. Her chest rose and fell as her fingers flexed. Hunter could tell she was considering doing that—killing them all. Or at least him. He could see her need for retaliation burning behind her gaze.
She sprang unexpectedly. Hunter flinched back, readying himself for an attack. But instead of coming for him, she reached for the floor and grabbed a sizable chuck of loose witchstone. Screeching an incantation in a language Hunter didn’t understand, she held the iridescent stone aloft. The witchstone burst with dazzling blue light. A clap of thunder reverberated through the chamber. A wave of air pushed Hunter backward. On impulse, he shielded his eyes.
When Hunter lowered his arm again, she was gone.
36
THE ROOM was silent. For a moment only. Then it erupted into chaos.
Some ran over to the king. Others ran over to Hunter. A few more lowered around those injured on the floor, checking to see if they lived. The enmity and strife that soaked the chamber only moments ago was gone.
Hunter felt hands on him. Someone slapped him on the back while someone else tugged on his shirt. Everyone seemed to be talking to him at once. But Hunter couldn’t process it. His vision was a blurry turmoil, and the world had slowed down.
There was movement in the crowd around him. His vision focused enough to spot Zinnuvial and Dax as they pushed others aside to reach him. Dax grabbed Hunter’s forearms and stared up at him, his eyes glossy and wide.
“Are you all right? Are you injured?”
“Me?”
Dax had been moments away from being incinerated, and he was worried about him? Hunter allowed himself a long exhale. With Dax near him again, his senses seemed to clear.
“I’m good,” he told him. And the energy he was using to stand abandoned him all at once, and he dropped to one knee. After everything he had been through in a single day—starting with the swim through the water intake, ending with a showdown with a sorceress—he was officially on empty. Spent.
Dax dropped next to him, arm around him to keep from falling over. “It’s over,” he said. A hand slipped behind Hunter’s neck and fingers wove through his hair. “You did it.” He didn’t seem to believe it himself.
Hunter looked up at the carnage around him. “At what cost,” he replied.
“There is always cost in war,” Zinnuvial said from behind Dax. “But it is now paid, and we can return to the life we knew.”
“But… but she got away,” Hunter sputtered.
“It no longer matters,” Dax said. “She can do no harm now.” He brought his forehead to rest against Hunter’s. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Hunter, you saved us all.”
Hunter tried to smile but couldn’t muster the strength. “I did it for you.”
“I know.”
The crowd around them shifted, and Hunter felt the change. People parted, clearing the way for someone. He lifted his head to see the king limping toward him, assisted by his guards. He was a large man, and would be nearly equal in height to Hunter if not for how he crouched forward weakly. Through a tight brow, he kept his eyes on Hunter as he approached.
Dax noticed the king’s approach, too, and peeled himself away from Hunter. “Your Majesty.”
“Move aside,” one of the guards barked at the crowd around Hunter. Everyone leapt to obey, and a pathway opened for King Ruzad to advance.
Hunter and Dax exchanged a look, and the two of them rose to their feet.
Ruzad shuffled forward. He paused a few steps away and raked his eyes over Hunter. His mouth opened but it was several moments before he formed any words. “You’ll forgive me,” he said. “The effects of her sorcery still linger in my mind.”
Guardsman and members of the resistance alike stood in charged silence, shock and bewilderment etched across every face. Everyone looked as if they’d been awakened from the same dream as they tried to process the events they’d witnessed. Some shook. Some stared at the blood on their hands. Some had quiet tears streaming down their faces. All eyes were on their king.
Ruzad made an unbalanced step forward. The guards flinched, seemingly confused as to what to do, but it was a resistance fighter who hurried in to offer support by sliding under Ruzad’s arm and taking his weight upon his shoulder. Ruzad glanced at the man and nodded before he returned his attention to Hunter. “Who are you?”
“Hunter. My name is Hunter. Your Majesty.”
“Hunter.” King Ruzad repeated his name as if that meant something to him. His eyes scanned the silent crowd as if only becoming aware of them. “It is as if a fog has been lifted from my eyes. I know not how long I’ve been under her heel, but the effects are fading. There is much unknown to me. But I know that because of you, I am liberated.”
Hunter didn’t know what to say. He squirmed a little. “Err… it was a team effort, really.”
Each moment that passed, Hunter could see the light behind Ruzad’s eyes brightening. The frailty of before, the timidity, evaporated away, and Ruzad looked stronger. And he stood a bit taller.
“If that was not my queen, where is my Jenora?”
Hunter didn’t think the room could sink any quieter, but all the air was sucked from the room with his words. No one dared breathe.
“Speak,” Ruzad said in a low voice that declared he would not suffer delay. “And speak true.”
“She is gone, Your Majesty,” Dax said, straightforward and direct, and without fear.
Ruzad turned his glare to Dax and something hard flashed in his eyes, but in a moment, it was gone. Hunter didn’t know what reaction to expect. He would have thought it would be something more. But Ruzad’s response instead was to fall very still.
Ruzad gently removed the hand of the resistance fighter who supported his arm, and he pushed his shoulders back. He already knew, Hunter thought. Somehow in his heart he knew. He was only waiting for the confirmation. And even in his current state, still rising out from whatever spell the imposter had him under, he had the uncanny poise to not show his grief here.
But Hunter, standing so near him, could see it nonetheless—pain that cut deep. He could see the shift in his energy, and in the way his eyes darkened. And
in the way his lower lip, tucked inside beard, tightened and quivered.
Dax’s words sent a ripple through the surrounding crowd as well. Guardsmen, believing they were simply following the orders of the queen, were now grappling with the reality that they’d been deceived all this time. That their queen was dead and they’d been doing dirty work for the imposter, and assisting in the subjugation of their own kingdom. The betrayal and loss began to register on their faces in expressions of horror and guilt.
“I will speak with the three of you,” he said to Hunter, Dax, and Zinnuvial. “And you,” he said to the nearest guard. “I will know what damage was done to my kingdom while my faculties were stolen from me. The rest, leave my chambers.” For a moment no one moved, so Ruzad swept his eyes across them and raised his voice. “Now.”
And the whole assemblage moved at once. In short order, the room was cleared. With the exception of the five of them and the numerous dead strewn about the floor. The carnage that remained made Hunter’s insides sink.
“From your speech, you are not from Andreya.” Ruzad walked about the center of his chamber, his eyes scanning the remains of the battle. His face was stone, showing nothing. He kicked aside one of the broken tiles that Hunter had pulled up from the floor.
“I am not,” Hunter replied.
“From where do you hail?”
“Far away. From a place called Chicago.”
Ruzad nodded as he righted a small table. “Strange that a man from so distant a land would find himself here, in my chamber, saving my kingdom from a Heneran plot.”
“I kinda fell into it,” Hunter replied. “Not by choice.”
“All the same,” Ruzad said as he turned about to face Hunter. “We owe you our gratitude. We will speak of reward another time. But rest assured your contributions today will be well remembered.”
“That is not why I came here, Your Majesty.”
“Regardless,” Ruzad said. “I would like to learn what has transpired—” He stopped, eyes widening. “Where did you get that?” he growled. His lips tightened as he closed the distance between them in a span of a heartbeat. He reached out and snatched the amulet that hung around Hunter’s neck. “Answer me now.” The words dropped from his mouth like a slow beat of a drum.
Hunter felt the chain bite into the back of his neck. He seized Ruzad’s wrist to keep him from breaking it free. Ruzad fought him, but Hunter’s grip was too strong. Their eyes were locked.
“It belonged to my mother,” Hunter replied.
Ruzad’s nostrils flared. “Don’t lie to me.”
Dax stepped forward. He glanced up at Hunter, and then to Ruzad. “He speaks the truth, Your Majesty. I stole it from his chamber myself.”
Something made Ruzad take in a sudden breath. He opened his fist to gaze upon the amulet, and color left his face. The gem in the center glowed red.
“This isn’t possible,” he whispered. “You said she was dead.”
“She is,” Hunter replied. “I was with her when she passed.”
“I… I don’t understand. She must be here. The gem… it only glows when we are united.”
United? Then Quinnar was wrong all along. It didn’t just glow when she wore it.
“Zefora’s hammer,” Dax breathed.
“Where is she?” Ruzad said louder.
Hunter’s eyes shifted involuntarily to the fireplace. Tiny shards from the shattered vase were strewn around the hearth. He’d destroyed what remained of her. He was certain of it. She wasn’t anywhere anymore.
He felt Dax’s eyes on him.
“She is still with us,” Dax said. He put a hand on Hunter’s arm. “She’s in you.”
“What are you talking about?” Ruzad demanded.
“Your Majesty, Hunter is son of Queen Jenora. There is your proof.”
Ruzad released the gem and looked at Hunter from his feet on up. His confusion was understandable—he was likely only ten years or so older than Hunter. “Preposterous. This is some form of trickery.”
“I realize this is hard to take in right now, Your Majesty. The Henerans sent Queen Jenora to another plane. One with a different timeline than here. During the time the imposter had taken her place, Queen Jenora lived a life in another world. Had a son, grew older, and died. Your Majesty, this is her son. He followed me back from their world when I stole the amulet from him.”
Ruzad shook his head and stepped back from him. “Her son?”
As the distance increased, the amulet faded.
“Your Majesty,” Dax continued, “there is more.” His eyes shifted hesitantly toward Hunter, and he took in a long, deliberate breath. “Hunter, the amulet glowed when you were close to Queen Jenora’s hand.”
Hunter was confused where he was going with this. “Right. That was how I found it.”
“That’s because there is a part of your father in you. Your father and mother were reunited then, and it made it glow.”
Both Hunter and Ruzad stared at Dax, mouths open.
“My father?” Hunter said finally.
Dax’s eyes shifted from Hunter’s face to Ruzad’s. “I can’t believe I had not noticed it until now.”
“Noticed what?” Ruzad commanded.
“The resemblance.”
Zinnuvial stepped forward. “Yes. I see it too. The eyes. The jawline. Seeing you side by side, it is very clear….”
“Dax? What are you saying?” Hunter’s insides were turning to jelly.
“Your mother was already with child when she was sent to your world.”
Hunter’s head was spinning. “No. I had a father. He left when I was young, but he was there.”
Ruzad ran his fingers through the hair along the side of his head, and his eyes looked distant. “Jenora was with child once before. But the child was lost.”
“Could it have been the imposter that told you of the miscarriage, Your Majesty? Not Queen Jenora?” Dax asked.
“I… I’m not certain. The haze of her spell was slow to take me. But yes, it is possible.”
A wave of cold raced down Hunter’s spine. The floor beneath him seemed to tilt, and his legs felt weak.
Dax closed his eyes and shook his head with wonder and incredulity. “Hunter, King Ruzad is your true father.”
37
THE KNOCK on the door came gently, but it still jarred Hunter from his thoughts like a battering ram. He flinched, his chin launching off his knuckles, and he straightened in his chair. His thoughts of his mother evaporated as he was pulled back to the present.
His memories of her seemed different now. Occupying the sitting room that had once been her favorite brought a fresh closeness to her. This was the side of her that she’d hidden from him. His entire life he’d assumed it was a dark past that she was attempting to protect him from. But it was this. Loss, regret, homesickness. He understood her so much more now. Maybe now it would be easier to accept that she was gone.
He set the mug of honeyed beer on the table beside him and fought the urge to get up and open the door himself. It made guards outside flustered and uncomfortable, he learned. They were programmed to follow a certain protocol, and it wigged them out when Hunter colored outside the lines of accepted decorum. “Come in.”
A click from the latch and Uri stepped in, stiff-backed and official. He was dressed in a formal doublet and hose, resplendent in the palace livery, his face clean and hair slicked back. The warm colors of the uniform brought out the blue in his skin. His expression was all business as he swung the door wide and stood with a lifted chin to the side.
“Master Dax, my lord,” he announced.
Dax strolled in and he winked at Uri, who tried to maintain his stoicism, but the corner of his mouth broke and lifted. Dax whispered something to him that Hunter couldn’t hear.
“She is recovering well,” Uri replied. “Thank you for inquiring.” Then Uri slipped out and shut the door behind him.
Dax made a cool scrutiny of the room. “Reaping the benefits already, I se
e.”
“Don’t,” Hunter replied. “This wasn’t my idea.”
“I’m certain you fought valiantly against it.” Dax circled around the room like it was a museum gallery. He fingered the drapes and pulled a leather-bound book from a shelf to inspect it, then slid it back into place. “An improvement from your tenement back in your own world, if I remember.”
The comment stabbed at his homesickness. He missed his apartment. “And the hole I spent a week in.”
Dax ignored that. “Your garments are also much improved, milord.”
Hunter sighed. Why was he being a dickhead right now? He was acting distant. Aloof. “Again, not my idea. Took your sweet time in returning.”
Dax looped around the table in the center of the room. “Much to do. The prisoners we rescued had to be reunited with families that were in hiding. Each safe house had to be informed of what happened and convinced the danger had passed. Took time.”
Of course there was no one else to do that, Hunter thought. Not Quinnar. Not Zinnuvial.
Dax eyed the piles of delicate pastries, cheeses, and sliced meats displayed on ornate platters. “Help yourself,” Hunter told him.
“Not hungry,” he said, and he popped a grape into his mouth anyway. “So, you’ve taken Uri on as your valet. Certain you can trust him?”
Hunter bit the inside of his cheek and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “How did you find out?”
“When we rescued his mother from the cell, her resemblance to Uri was undeniable. It was an easy leap to make.”
“Anyone else know?”
“I’ve not told anyone. Why is he here?”
“Community service,” Hunter replied. The guilt and shame the kid had to bear was enough punishment in his view. No one needed to know the truth, and Uri needed to be around to nurse his mother back to health.