The Treachery Of A Weasel

by Robert Blanchard

  It was then that I heard that faint buzzing in my ears again.

  The same buzzing that I heard when Sirak attempted to turn me into a Ther-lor.

  My heart jumped in my chest and a wave of fear flooded over me. I looked again at my friends, who had collapsed on the ground and were moaning in pain from the terrible buzzing, which was clearly more amplified in their ears than mine—

  Since they were still human and I was not.

  CHAPTER 17

  Of the group that went to fight Norvin, only Ceiridwen and the brownies were unaffected—I could see the two little men peeking out from one of Aurora’s pouches. Aurora was writhing on the ground, the magical amulet Narissara had given her protecting her only from physical attacks, not magical.

  The pixie fluttered over to me. “What is going on?”

  I glared at Marion, protected from the ritual, watching over his handiwork. “They are trying to turn us all into Ther-lor.”

  “That means the ritual is being performed somewhere in the city,” Iskandor said. “But how? Last we knew, Sirak had possession of the Rod of Therl.”

  I had no answer for that, and at that moment, it didn’t matter. My gaze turned to Marion, who was staring at us in fear. By the sudden change in his expression, it was clear that he realized that the Sol-haleth ritual wasn’t going to work on us. His face changed from glee to astonishment to fear to fury.

  “Attack!” He ordered the Ther-lor in front of him.

  But the Ther-lor didn’t move.

  For the first time since we entered the city, I turned my attention to the Ther-lor, whose heads were clearly swaying back and forth on their shoulders. Quick to follow Marion’s orders before, now they were unresponsive.

  “It must be because of the ritual,” Iskandor observed, unknowingly speaking about my thoughts.

  It took a moment to sink in, but I finally realized that I was free to do what I wanted—a city of Ther-lor was no longer watching over us.

  Marion clearly had the same thought at the same time. His expression was petrified.

  My gaze went from his stupid little face to the emerald necklace he was wearing. It all suddenly became clear—the necklace was how Marion was protected from the effects of the ritual.

  Leaping over the line of Ther-lor in front of me, I landed in front of Marion. Instinctively, he pulled out his dagger and went for Mirabelle, but he was far too late and I shoved him backward. He scrambled back to his feet and lunged forward, but I caught him by the arm as he tried to stab me and shoved him backward, sending him crashing against the wall.

  The full breadth of Marion’s evil plot had suddenly come full-circle in my head and was now playing on an endless loop. He and Norvin kidnapped Mirabelle, intending to turn her Ther-lor. Marion surely knew I would follow, as would my friends, and he would have a golden opportunity to make us part of his evil, undead army.

  But he didn’t have Sirak’s full knowledge of the Sol-haleth ritual. He didn’t know that it would only work on human, elves, and dwarves.

  My rage was boiling inside me—I could feel small crackles of lightning bursting from my body. Marion was on the ground, nearly hyperventilating, backing away as far as he could. “Please, Aidan, please … don’t kill me.”

  “Kill you?” I asked, amusement rising through my anger. “No, Marion—I wouldn’t dream of doing that.” I stalked closer and knelt in front of him.

  “Because if I did, you wouldn’t be paying for your crimes.”

  Then I yanked the emerald necklace from his body.

  No longer protected from the ritual, Marion began to moan in pain and cover his ears as he was assaulted with the same ringing and buzzing as my friends were currently experiencing. He was just about to scream, but Iskandor was quick to respond—he thrust his hand toward Marion, using his powers to steal his voice and silence him.

  If only Marion were always like that.

  I leaned closer and whispered in Marion’s ear. “If I can’t save my friends, then you can share the same fate.”

  I stood up and kicked Marion hard in the stomach—my anger was so much, I couldn’t help myself. Then I quickly moved over to Mirabelle, who was also in agony from the effects of the ritual. I knelt beside her and pulled the necklace over her head.

  “Here, my love. You’re safe now.”

  Mirabelle immediately relaxed. She was still breathing heavily, but when she looked up and saw me, her expression was one of pure joy and she wrapped her arms around me.

  Her embrace had never felt so good.

  “Aidan,” Iskandor said quietly, reminding me of the danger at hand.

  I released Mirabelle and we stood up. “What is happening?” She asked.

  “Marion tried to turn us all into Ther-lor,” I replied. “We have to stop the ritual, but we don’t know where they are performing it.”

  “In the bowels of the castle,” Mirabelle said quickly. “I was there when Marion gave the orders. You have to hurry—the stairs are in the back of the royal hall.”

  “Okay,” I said, plans forming in my head. “Iskandor and I will take care of that. Mirabelle, you stay here and out of sight—Ceiridwen, stay here with her, please.”

  “My pleasure!” The pixie said happily, fluttering around in circles.

  “Don’t forget us!” Tandem piped up, both brownies piped up, suddenly there.

  “Yes, of course … you too,” I smiled at them.

  Before Iskandor and I left, I glanced back out at the courtyard to Norvin—he was still laughing and clearly enjoying the agony of my friends, watching their transformation. Somehow, he hadn’t noticed any of what had just transpired with Marion.

  So Iskandor and I hurried through the castle, which was eerily still and silent with no one inside. I had no time to enjoy the beauty and splendor of the castle as we rushed downstairs and through a series of corridors.

  Finally, I could hear chanting. The faint buzzing/screeching sound was still very faint in my ears.

  We entered what appeared to be a chapel, at least at one time, as evidenced by the many pews that had been cleared to the side. Any other remaining decoration in the chapel had been removed; in the center of the room, there stood a large, wooden pool, and on the far side of it, a man stood, wielding a magic wand, chanting in a language that seemed very ancient, his face in a trance-like state. Behind him, the magical barrier containing all the souls of the people of Longchester. There were a dozen other cultists in the room, all dressed in black robes with red lining, all casting spells and doing things in the ways of magic. From the way their bodies slumped, it appeared that they had all been doing this for several days.

  Iskandor leaned in and whispered, “We must have one of them alive, for information.”

  I nodded in agreement. Then, as I stared at the barrier, a thought occurred to me.

  “Follow my lead,” I whispered to Iskandor, who nodded.

  We snuck around the pool, behind the cultist, who never noticed our approach, so intent was he upon the completion of the ritual. For a fleeting moment, it occurred to me how likely it was that these same cult members had performed this same exact ritual in Delmar, turning everyone I knew into mindless, soulless Ther-lor.

  I stared at the barrier and began to focus, channeling the powers inside of me. I could feel the magic in my veins, crackling with energy and desperate to be released. Still, I focused harder, knowing it would take a great deal of magical strength to destroy the barrier. I could feel and hear the lightning bursting from my body, drowning out the persistent buzzing of the ritual.

  Finally, I could contain my power no longer.

  I thrust my hands toward the barrier and released the energy, which burst forth in a powerful lightning bolt. The bolt shattered the barrier in a burst of white light—the souls of the people were free, and they scattered all about to find their owner.

  My presumption proved correct—the destruction of the magical barrier disrupted the ritual, and the cultists had been knocked bac
kward by the force, each laying on the ground disoriented.

  The Rod of Therl was laying at my feet; I picked it up and tucked it into my boot. By the time I had done that, Iskandor had used his power to bind and silence all of the cultists.

  The lead cultist was lying on his stomach, his black hood covering his head. I yanked him up and ripped the hood off his head.

  Tam stared back at me.

  A flood of realization swept through my body, so intense I thought I might pass out.

  Tam came to Delmar to lure us to Longchester –

  He must have escaped back the castle in the confusion of the fight with Norvin.

  “Give him back his voice,” I said to Iskandor. The dragon obliged.

  “You set us up,” I growled at Tam.

  Tam smiled back at me. “And it was too easy.”

  He barely finished his sentence before I’d headbutted him square on the nose. Blood poured from his face, which gave me the slightest bit of satisfaction.

  The cultist’s demeanor hovered between anger, disbelief, and fatigue. His gaze flickered back and forth between Iskandor and I, and then he spat, “You demons will get nothing from me.”

  I sent an amused glance to Iskandor.

  The cultist’s expression settled on annoyed. “Mock me, will you? Laugh while you can—the will of my master will be done.”

  “Which master—Marion or Sirak?” I asked, just to hear his reaction.

  His eyes widened in fury. “You are not worthy to speak my Lord’s name,” he seethed.

  “Who, Sirak?” I asked casually, then watched as he became even more enraged. “It’s quite alright—he and I have already met. Nice guy—in his own way, I suppose—but he could use an interior decorator.”

  The expression that I got from the cultist in response, as expected, was one of incredulity. I smiled inwardly at his discomfiture, but that frustration was soon replaced, once again, but fury. His hairless head became a deepening shade of red, and the silence brought about by his confusion became a sputtering, rambling tirade.

  “You know nothing of my lord Sirak! Whatever you and your fellow demon are planning, he will stop you! He will sever your heads from your lifeless bodies, and he will stick them on pikes for all to see! Lord Sirak will claim dominion over all of the world, and he will—”

  WHACK!

  I had had enough, and had ended his rant with a short right hand punch. The cultist fell unconscious.

  Iskandor looked at me, an expression of slight disappointment across his features. “Was that truly necessary?” He asked, in a tone that I would have taken personally, from anyone but him.

  “It beats separating his head from his neck.”

  Iskandor smiled. “Does this mean Norvin will be changed too?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “We should go back up and find out, check on everyone.”

  So we made our way back upstairs, not quite in the rush we were in to get down there, but not taking our time either.

  As we exited the castle and stood on the steps overlooking the city, I watched as the people of Longchester—no longer Ther-lor—tried to pull themselves up and collect their wits. As they realized they had been saved, they yelled out in joy, hugged each other, and began to celebrate.

  “Mom! Dad!” Mirabelle yelled, bounding down the steps toward the edge of the courtyard. In that split second, the only details I could make out about Mirabelle’s parents was that her father was a tall man and her mother was a short woman.

  Norvin—still a Ther-lor—had been looking on in shock and rage as his and Marion’s plans unraveled before them. At the sight of Mirabelle happily running down the stairs to her parents, his teeth gritted in anger.

  He drew his sword and began to charge at her.

  “No!” I yelled, drawing my swords and rushing in to stop him.

  But instinctively, I knew I wouldn’t reach Mirabelle before he did—and that scared me more than anything else that had ever happened to me.

  Norvin raised his sword over his head, preparing to cleave the love of my life into two—

  Just before he reached her, a body flew in between us, knocking Mirabelle out of the way.

  Norvin’s blade nearly severed that body in half.

  A split second later, my body collided with Norvin’s, sending him flying back.

  Laying on my stomach on the ground, I looked up at Norvin, who was looking behind me with a mild expression of satisfaction. I looked behind me.

  Kirra lay on the ground, mortally wounded.

  Derrick, Timor, Mirabelle, and Iskandor were already there, tending to her. Kirra was still moving, but I could hear her moans of agony. I didn’t need to be standing there to know that Norvin’s attack was going to kill her.

  I looked over at Norvin, sitting up and watching with a smug smile on his face. Anger flooded over my entire body—I wanted to tear that man limb from limb.

  Kirra needs you …

  I forced myself to resist the urge to attack Norvin right then and there. There would be plenty of time to deal with him after.

  I ran over to the group, who were still hovering around Kirra. She wasn’t quite moving as much, but she was still conscious.

  Timor met me before I reached them. “There’s nothing we can do,” he said, telling me what I already knew. “Iskandor was able to ease her pain.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes as knelt beside Kirra.

  “Why?” Mirabelle asked, crying. “Why did you save me? We … we’ve never liked each other …”

  Kirra’s gaze slowly turned to me. “Someone … once told me about comrades … how we should always protect each other, no matter what …”

  At those words, I began to cry. The Queen of the Thieves, of all people, had listened to my words …

  And it had cost her her life.

  “I’m so sorry, Kirra …” I sobbed.

  She chuckled, and I could hear blood gurgling in her throat. “For what? We all … knew what we were signing up for. And whatever … you may think of me, I … know true love when I … see it …”

  Mirabelle and I exchanged tearful glances. I looked back at Kirra. “I give you my word on this, Kirra—if it’s the last thing I do, I will make sure the whole world knows what you did today. You will die a hero.”

  Kirra smiled. “Never did … like that word.”

  Then suddenly, she grabbed Mirabelle’s hand. “Don’t … be mad at Aidan. I made him promise to keep a … secret. It’s my fault … I’ll let him … tell you …”

  Tears flowed from Mirabelle’s eyes as she sobbed.

  Derrick, who had been holding Kirra’s hand the whole time, was crying as well. I could hear Tandem and Mishap’s sniffling from Aurora’s pouch.

  Kirra smiled at him. “Stop … blubbering, you big baby. The only thing … this world has lost is a thief.”

  Derrick shook his head. “Not me. I’ve lost a friend.”

  A tear rolled down Kirra’s cheek, but still she smiled. Her pain seemed to be easing more as death strode forward to claim her. Her words were a whisper. “You were always a true friend to me, Derrick. Thank you.”

  Iskandor was next. “Watch over them,” Kirra whispered.

  The dragon simply nodded.

  Someone squeezed into the circle, and we were all astonished to find Aurora standing there. She had been so quiet, we’d forgotten she was even here.

  Mirabelle started to lead her away. “Come on, sweetie. You don’t need to see this.”

  But the young girl pulled away from Mirabelle and approached Kirra. Oddly enough, her expression was one of mild sorrow, blended with an even stare of curiosity.

  “I know … what you’re thinking,” Kirra said to her. “It won’t work—you know that. Let me go—I want to see my parents.”

  Aurora’s eyes sunk in defeat and she nodded.

  Kirra put her hand on the young girl’s cheek. “Brave girl. Don’t … let this change you. Be strong, and … make the right decisions
.”

  Aurora nodded.

  With that, Kirra sighed, and then she was gone.

  For one moment, it felt like the air was suddenly gone between all of us—like time just stopped. Kirra’s body, frozen forever in death, and the rest of us, staring at her and sobbing.

  The next moment, at least for me—time started again.

  And I was angry—very angry.

  I stood up and turned slowly around to face Kirra’s killer. Norvin was still standing there, watching with an amused expression on that weasel face of his.

  Won’t take long for me to fix that …

  “You’re going to pay for this, Norvin,” I growled.

  “Am I, Aidan?” Norvin replied, seemingly even more amused. He started to back toward the wall as he continued speaking. “I don’t think so. Now is not the time for us to fight—you really have a lot to think about. So I think I’ll just take my leave …”

  With that, he hopped ten feet up to the wall of the courtyard—I lunged for him, but I was too late.

  “Farewell, Aidan,” he said with a smile. “Until we meet again.”

  “Get back here, you coward!” I yelled, ready to go after him, ready to follow him to the ends of the world and beyond.

  Norvin put his hand to his forehead and flicked his fingers toward me, saying goodbye. Then he turned and disappeared.

  I was ready to jump up on the wall and follow him when a voice stopped me—though the familiar, high-pitched voice wasn’t speaking to me.

  “I don’t think so, Norvin. You’re not getting off that easy.”

  Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, a figure appeared, wearing the familiar spiky armor and black cloak. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  Sirak …

  The self-proclaimed “lord” had his hand outstretched toward where Norvin had been. He turned his attention toward me for a moment.

  “Peace between us this day, Aidan,” he said. “Today, I am here to settle a score.”

  I backed away from the wall and watched as Norvin appeared, apparently under the effects of Sirak’s spell. He seemed to be trying to fight it, to no avail.

  “What—what’s happening?” Norvin asked, clearly afraid.

  Sirak smiled (I suppose) at Norvin. “Tsk, tsk, Norvin—do you really believe me to be that much of a fool? With your reputation, did you really expect me to trust you? I gave you what I’ve given no one else—the gifts of the Ther-lor, along with extraordinary speed and strength, while retaining your own free will. And yet, you demonstrate to me why free will is the very problem with this world. I give you these gifts, and you betray me. You take our plan that we devised and steal it, just to serve that bumbling pile of waste.” He gesture toward King Marion, who was looking on with fear and awe.