Rendal wasn’t dumb, though, and he was wondering why Goland was agreeing to all of this. Sure, some of it could be that he didn’t want a massive purge of all the citizens. He could be protecting them. But Goland wasn’t a coward; the correct thing would have been to go to war, lose, and then die.
Yet he hadn’t.
And now he was going along with Rendal’s commands, just another servant to be called and given direction.
Why?
Riley.
That was the only answer that made any sense. They were expecting Riley to return, and that was why Goland kept listening to him. Gave up the kingdom. Would speak this evening. Riley was alive and had somehow reversed the spell he’d put on her. And sooner or later, she’d come.
Looking out at the bustling kingdom, Rendal nodded to himself. That was the truth.
Riley was coming home, and Rendal would need to be prepared when she arrived.
The crowd before Mason stretched for what looked like miles. He was sitting on an elevated platform next to his father. Rendal had yet to arrive, but Harold stood to their right.
Mason had never seen so many New Perthians at once, and he wasn’t exactly sure how his father was going to make his voice heard. They filled the square and stretched out onto the three roads that converged there. They lined the streets farther back until Mason could hardly see them.
“Rendal is on the way,” Harold said to Goland as a page scurried from his side. “Now, you see this?”
Rendal’s lackey held up a large cone in his right hand, something Mason had seen earlier but paid no mind to.
“You know what it is?” Harold asked.
“You want me to yell in it to get the word out, is that right?” Goland responded. “I truly hope you two conquerors don’t think we’re so dense as to not know how to use such a thing.”
“Look, old man. You don’t have to yell into this one. Artino set it up. The handle here? It holds amphoralds, which power it. You speak into it, and your voice is going to boom out to all these people. No need to scream. Artino calls it an ‘amplifier.’”
“Fine,” Goland said. Mason knew his father understood amphoralds due to their trading with Sidnie.
Mason looked to his left and saw Rendal walking up the platform. He wore a red robe, having changed the former Prefect’s royal purple to it, and a new Honor Guard followed him. Mason had no idea who they were, only that they weren’t Eisen and the group that had served before.
Rendal stopped in front of Goland, and the Honor Guard continued across the platform. There were twenty of them, all dressed in red, matching their leader.
“You ready to do my bidding, Goland?”
“I’m out here, aren’t I?” he asked.
Mason wished his father would stop the constant antagonism. He hadn’t said so, because his father would only tell him he was old enough to do as he wished, but Mason understood the terror that Rendal could bring if he wanted. The pain.
“Just making sure we’re on the same page,” Rendal responded. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Please, Riley, if you’re out there, hurry back. We need you, Mason thought.
He said nothing. He didn’t move.
His father stood and stepped forward. Gone were the trappings of royalty. Now the man wore a jailhouse uniform—gray pants, and a fraying gray shirt. He didn’t look like a Prefect, but rather a homeless man—except for the way he held himself. Mason was proud of his father. His back was rigid, and his chin was high.
He passed through the false Honor Guard, the soldiers hardly making any room for him. Mason wanted to spit in each of their faces. Rendal followed him.
Harold handed Goland the amplifier, and he put it to his mouth.
“Thank you all for coming out here,” he started, his words carrying easily over the crowd. The voices beneath him quickly hushed, and in his brief pause, silence reigned. “You know who I am. Goland Ire. You knew my father, or of him, and you know my son. I’m here now to tell you that the world has changed, and very quickly. I’m here to tell you that for the time being, we have a new ruler. Even I must respect that. I’m asking you all to do the same.”
Goland looked down at his feet. Mason could tell his father was angry and wanted to fight, but he knew that he couldn’t.
When he spoke, his voice remained the same—calm and determined.
“Some of you out there may be thinking of fighting back. Of trying to revolt. I urge you with everything I have in me not to do so. I urge you to remain peaceful and to accept that things have changed for now. If you have ever cared for New Perth or for me, you will do this.”
Goland lowered the amplifier and looked at Rendal. “Anything else?”
Only those on the platform could hear him.
“No, that’ll do,” Rendal responded. He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Give me that and go sit back down.”
Goland handed it over and then moved to his seat next to his son.
He patted Mason’s leg gently and leaned over to him. “I’m going to make sure that bastard dies one way or another. I’ll hire a prostitute to murder him in his sleep if I have to.”
Goland chuckled as he leaned back in his chair.
Mason cracked a smile, the worry leaving his mind for a second.
Rendal put the amplifier to his mouth.
“I’d like to thank Goland for coming up here and saying those words. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Rendal Hemmons. I am the new Prefect, and that’s not going to change. It’s good that you all get used to it. It’s good that you see the same wisdom Goland has, because if you don’t, only pain will befall you.”
Rendal looked into the air, and Mason followed his gaze.
A dozen orbs floated across the sky, black things with green circles around them.
“Look up.” Rendal’s voice boomed out across the expanse, and the crowd before him did as he commanded.
Everyone saw the orbs.
“I want you to know that any uprising, any revolt, any unrest, will be met very harshly. I can be a loving Prefect. I can bring magic to this old, backward kingdom, and I can give you riches you’ve never imagined, But...” He gestured upward with his hand. “I can also destroy it all. Each one of those orbs contains fire—more fire than you can imagine—and they’re floating up there, waiting for my command.”
Rendal grinned.
“Indeed, they’re floating because of me.” He looked over the crowd. “Don’t make me let loose that fire. Don’t make it rain down on you and your children. On your parents. On your loved ones. Go home. Live your lives. Be good citizens of New Perth, and wait for the riches I’ll bring to you. Otherwise, the things you hold dear will be stripped from you.”
Goland leaned over to Mason. “Yes, son, I’m going to enjoy watching him die. Hold faith. Riley’s coming, and this fucking bastard is going to get what he deserves.”
Night had come, and Rendal sat with Harold atop the castle. He didn’t want to be in his chambers anymore, so the two had come to one of the flat places on the roof. Rendal had made sure chairs were in place at a spot that would give them a beautiful view of the kingdom.
Rendal held a glass of wine. “Are you sure you don’t want anything, Harold?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I need to be alert.”
Rendal took a sip from his chalice.
“Would you call us friends, Harold?”
“No, Your Grace. I am your servant.”
Rendal chuckled. “I suppose that’s right. I did threaten to kill you a few weeks ago, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Your Grace, you did.”
“I suppose friends don’t do that to each other, so perhaps you’re right.” Rendal was smiling, although Harold’s face remained stoic. “Well, you’re probably the closest thing to a friend I have, or need, for that matter. That’s why I called you up here—so that we can look at all we’ve done.”
“I appreciate it, Your Grace.”
Rend
al was quiet for a few moments. Of course, he hadn’t called Harold up here to shoot the shit or look at what they’d conquered. There was no they; there was only him. Rendal. It was his mind that allowed this to happen, and it would be his mind that allowed them to go further.
“Is this all there is?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” Harold responded.
“I mean, here we are. We’ve got what we wanted. New Perth is mine. Yet, what am I to do now? What’s next?”
“I do as you tell me, Your Grace. That kind of strategy is beyond my ability.”
Rendal nodded. “I know, I know. It’s just… I thought it would be more than this, I guess. I find it kind of…boring.”
“It’s not enough?”
“Maybe the world isn’t enough, Harold. I don’t know yet, but I do want to find out. First, though, I need Riley. I need to know whether she is dead or alive. If she’s alive, I either need her with me or dead.”
“No one knows where she is, Your Grace. No one knows what happened to her,” Harold answered.
Rendal knew his second in command wanted nothing to do with this. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the young sorceress.
“We have to find her, whatever it takes. I can’t leave this place and move out into the wider world if she’s still here. I’ll return to find that everything I worked for was stolen from me.”
Rendal glanced at his second in command. The man wasn’t pleased, although he would do as his master bid.
“I want you to go find her. Take as many men as you need, as many mages as you need, and bring her back here. This will be the last time I ask you to do it. She will either bow to me, or she’ll die. Riley’s time in Irth—at least as she currently lives it—is at an end.”
“She won’t come,” Harold replied. “She’ll kill us, your Grace.”
“Then overwhelm her with force. Empty out half the fucking kingdom if you need that many people, but ensure she’s ready to return.”
Harold stood. “You’d like me to get started now?”
Rendal nodded. “You understand perfectly, as I knew you would.”
Harold turned to go, but Rendal spoke up again. “And Harold, if her sidekick is with her—William—I want you to know that I expect you to kill him when you both return. I expect to watch it. I haven’t forgotten. There is no room for weakness in my tent, you understand?”
“I do, Your Grace,” Harold answered.
He left Rendal alone on the rooftop.
It was almost over, this stage of Rendal’s growth. He was done toying with Riley. He was done begging. He’d done everything he could for her, hadn’t he? He’d shown Mason mercy. He’d shown her mercy, yet she continued to defy him. Rendal couldn’t wait forever.
In truth, he’d gone above and beyond trying to show her how silly her loyalty to New Perth was. He’d done more for Riley than anyone.
Now she would choose, and if she chose wrong, she would die.
Harold wanted to punch a hole through the castle wall. The fucking problem was that the damn thing was made of stone.
He didn’t know where Belarus was or how to get in touch with the damned fool. Rendal was obsessed with this woman, and Harold could barely take it anymore. Everything had been about her since she had first walked into their lives.
Harold made his way down to the guards’ barracks.
“Anyone seen Belarus?”
Some of the guards were playing cards, and others laying on their bunks. They all jumped to their feet at the sight of Harold.
“No, sir. He left an hour ago,” one of them said.
“Where did he say he was going?”
“Sir, do I have permission to speak freely?”
“Yes, please do.”
“He was going to one of the local whorehouses.”
Harold breathed in deeply. “Which one?”
“Maggie’s, sir.”
“As you were.”
He turned and left. This was his fault, not Belarus’s. He should have had the man killed months ago, but no… Harold had kept him around.
Because I’m always busy with Rendal’s shit. The moment we finally make headway and find a bit of stability, he’s telling me how much more we have to do.
Harold walked through the dark streets until he found the madam’s place of business. There was no sign that said Maggie’s, but the guards had all quickly found the whorehouses. Belarus was freaking addicted to these things. Was he not capable of finding a regular woman?
Dumb question, Harold thought.
He knocked on the door, and after a few seconds, a small window slid open. A pretty woman’s face peered out from the other side. “Can I help you?”
“There’s a man named Belarus inside. He’s a damned bumbling idiot, and he works for the Prefect. Tell him he’s got about two minutes to get his ass out here or I’m coming in there.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, but she saw that Harold meant business. The window slid shut, and Harold stepped back into the street.
About a minute and a half later, the door burst open and Belarus stumbled out. His shirt was halfway on, and he was struggling to get his second leg into his pants.
“Boss, sorry, boss. Didn’t know you was gonna need me.” He got his foot stuck in his pants and hung like that for a moment, his face growing more and more concerned as he realized what was about to happen.
The idiot can’t figure out how to stop it, Harold thought. I’ve got to make sure he dies, or at least demote the bastard.
Sure enough, Belarus tipped over.
He fell into the street, and the whores behind him started laughing.
“Shut yer damn mouths!” Harold hollered. “Shut ‘em, or I’ll come in there and beat each one of ya ‘till yer black and blue!”
The door swung shut, but Harold could still hear the laughter from inside.
“Do you think with anything besides your dick?”
Belarus had sat up and was finally managing to get his pants on. “‘Course, boss. But at night, a man needs a little rest and relaxation, you know?”
“Well, that’s over for now. We’ve got business to attend to.”
“‘Course we do, boss. ‘Course we do. How can I help?”
“We’re going after the woman again.”
Belarus eyes narrowed, and he looked up. “That Riley bitch?”
“Yes, that Riley bitch. Rendal wants us to go find her and bring her back.”
“Boss, don’t nobody know where she is. I done asked like you told me.”
“Yes, and I’m sure your questioning was very in-depth,” Harold mocked. “Just get up and listen to me. We’re going to get together a group of three hundred soldiers, and one hundred mages—the ones we brought from Sidnie. And by we, I mean you’re going to do it. I need them ready to go by tomorrow morning.”
“Where are we goin’, boss?”
“That’s what I’m going to figure out. Just do your part, and don’t worry about mine.”
Belarus finally stood from the cobblestone street. “Okay, yeah. ‘Course. We’ll be ready by the mornin’.”
“Don’t fuck this up, Belarus. My temper is short right now.”
“Shoot, I won’t boss. Everythin’ will be ready, promise.”
Harold left Belarus standing alone in the street, the laughter from the whorehouse finally quiet.
Rendal had better not be lying about this being the end of the woman. Harold was sick and tired of her, and all that went on with her. They had the kingdom. They were capable of actually leaving here and going out into the world to conquer more. They didn’t need her.
She needed them.
Or she needed to die.
Chapter Eight
Riley’s eyes opened, and her body started moving before she was actually able to think.
She rolled off the bed, grabbing the sword that sat beneath it, and leapt to her feet. Her eyes lit red, and fire washed across her blade.
Rendal stood in front of h
er—the dark mage, wearing his red robe, the color of his eyes matching hers.
Electricity covered his hands.
“Hello, Riley.”
The electricity ripped from his fingers. Riley was barely able to spin to her right, avoiding the blow that would have killed her. She went to a knee and brought her left hand forward, slinging tiny arrows of flame toward the mage’s face.
They slammed into a forcefield, one she hadn’t been able to see. It glowed blue, and the tiny arrows disintegrated.
“That’s all you’ve learned in our time apart?”
Rendal brought both hands together, and this time a tunnel of electricity shot forth. It slammed into the concrete floor and spread out outward in an ever-widening circle.
Riley let the point of her blade touch the ground, leaping into the air and levitating there. She thrust the sword forward, aiming it directly at Rendal’s heart. It flew through the air, but the mage moved nearly as quickly as she had, dodging it.
The movement forced his electricity to halt. Riley called the sword back as she dropped to the ground.
Rendal raised a hand, and the sword stopped in mid-air. The hilt faced the ground and the point the ceiling; the two mages were locked in a stalemate, because Rendal was calling it to him as well.
The sword shook in the air, unable to go either way. Riley felt Rendal’s power, massive like a mountain. Immoveable. A force that could not be reckoned with.
“Riley,” he said, “you’ve already lost.”
Rendal pushed the sword forward—it whipped toward Riley, both mages flinging it at her. It moved faster than her eyes could see; she had no chance to move.
And then it stopped, the point a half-inch from her throat.
Riley blinked.
Rendal wasn’t standing in her room any longer. Linda was. No red robe, just the drab clothes the old woman always wore. Her eyes weren’t red, but brown. No electricity covered her hands, nor was there any blackened concrete where Rendal had thrown it.
The sword started falling, but Riley’s hand whipped out like a rattlesnake and grabbed it before it touched the ground.
Her heart thudded in her chest, and there was sweat across her brow.
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