by Beam, Brian
The fourth armored man stepped up to Galius with a set of manacles. Galius jerked his hands away. “What gives you the right?” he screamed nasally.
“Now, now, Count Firmon . . . or should I say ex-Count? Are you sure you want to add resistance to arrest by Lord Vauhs’s personal guard to your charges?” the rotund, balding man asked with a cruel smile plastered on his toad face.
“Charges?” Galius sneered. “What charges?”
“Taking the law into your own hands, of course,” Julan replied condescendingly. “You were seen taking these two men into custody, bypassing the requisite notification of the city guard or a constable.”
I wanted to laugh out loud. I was fairly certain that in Byweather, a city full of corrupt nobles and politicians, the law was routinely disregarded by those with power and money. However, it seemed that one noble’s disregard for the law could be used against them by another in a bid for power.
Julan “tsked”. “I volunteered to look into the matter personally, and Lord Vauhs sent members of his own guard with me to verify the truth of the situation. We heard most everything from the door. Enough to get you stripped of your position, at least, if not some jail time.”
Galius blanched and shook his head. “No, y-you cannot do this,” he protested, sounding like an offended child.
Julan’s thick lips turned up in a sardonic smile. “Oh yes, I can. Now, let the man do his work, and I will be gracious enough to leave off mention of resistance.”
Galius looked ready to say something else, but he just pressed his lips together until they quivered and shoved his hands behind his back. As he and his brutes were led up the stairs by three of the guards, he turned his head back towards Julan.
“If I am to be arrested for this, then those two must also be arrested for stealing from me.” Rizear, the god of death, couldn’t have held as much hatred in his voice as Galius did at that moment. “This isn’t over, Mr. Karell. You will pay.”
I gave him a toothy smile in reply.
“Goodbye, Galius,” Julan said as Galius and his brutes were taken out of the basement. He then turned to me.
“Now to deal with you,” Julan announced. “Did you steal from Galius?”
Despite my morals, I was completely ready to lie. “We—”
Julan waved a hand before him. “It matters not. The way I see it, you two would serve as nothing but a hindrance if you were arrested and tried. Therefore, I will allow you to leave Byweather on the condition that you never return. Your only other option is death.”
The last armored man gave his sword a twist as if to confirm Julan’s threat, all but proving that Byweather’s nobles were in no way above taking the law into their own hands.
“Garlan here will escort you in secret to the city gates, where you will be released. You have no problems with this, I presume?”
“No, sir,” I replied, keeping my usually sharp tongue in check.
Julan, with his toad face, probably deserved a few insults—and let me say, my tongue itched to let out a joke about croaking—but I was being handed a miracle of sorts. Julan wanted Til’ and me out of Byweather so we couldn’t be convicted of theft and thus encourage leniency for Galius’s actions. We wanted to leave Byweather to find our friends. It was a win-win situation.
Julan nodded to Garlan, who swiped his sword through the rope tied around Til’s feet. Til’ beamed brightly with a show of bloody teeth.
Garlan grabbed Til’ and me by our arms and started forward. As we approached the stairs, I decided to do my philanthropic deed for the day. “Mr. Bertal, that tattooed man has an Activated Contract with Galius. It may be in everyone’s best interests to force Galius to cancel the Terms.”
If Julan knew anything about Contracts, he’d understand that without the Terms being cancelled, Galius could potentially end up with a brute capable of causing Julan problems at his beck and call. Conversely, Bill would effectively be sentenced to death if he chose to ignore the pull to serve Galius once the time frame of the Activated Contract lapsed.
“I will take that into consideration,” Julan responded flatly.
Garlan prodded us to start up the stairs.
“And remember,” Julan spoke behind us, “your description will be given to the city guard. If you so much as set a single toe into Byweather, you will be dead within the hour. Banishment from the city is a great kindness on my part. If not for your unwitting assistance in my plans, I’d simply have you executed here and now.”
And with that, Til’ and I were taken out to the street. We were then escorted by a closed-curtained carriage to Byweather’s northern gates, never to be allowed back in. Good riddance, I mused.
My only thoughts during that silent carriage ride were of Sal’s and Max’s safety.
Chapter 3
Day 2
Dear journal,
15th day of
Day 2
The last time I kept a journal was years ago when I was a little girl. I feel a little childish starting one now, but although this is only the second day since my father had me abducted, I’ve grown bored of sitting alone in this jostling carriage. I guess I should count myself lucky that I was even allowed a quill and paper.
Korin always seems to be writing in that journal of his, so maybe there’s something to it. Korin . . .
I hope Korin and Til’ are okay. I think about Korin constantly. He’s probably the most unique man I’ve ever met. So optimistic and kind, yet a passionate fire burns deep within him and radiates through his eyes. He’s smart, and skilled. He’s not bad to look at either.
And thus my dilemma. I’ve felt infidelitous enough because of our kisses. I should have just been honest with him. Being with Korin made me forget that I’m not free to love as I choose. My father will make sure I don’t forget again.
My father sent some of his best men for me, and I had no chance against them. He sent them with one of the carriages used to transport wizard criminals, its frame infused with abelyr, prohibiting any magic usage within it. My father’s men took me, Max, Xalis, and the horses—Telis and Windmane. They left Korin and Til’ with nothing. I really hope they’re okay.
Max and Xalis are imprisoned within abelyr boxes in the storage compartment below the carriage. There’s no way that they will ever be pried from the hands of the laboratory researchers at the Academy. Poor Til’ must be taking his broken promise to Bhaliel quite hard.
Once at the Academy, there’s little chance I’ll be able to escape the watch my father will surely have placed over me, and it’s unlikely that Korin could rescue Max by himself. Korin may be skilled, but he’d have no chance against the Academy wizards. I know in my heart that Korin will undoubtedly come after us, though, so I can only hope for the best.
I can’t help but feel that all of this is my fault. Days ago, I felt blessed to be with Korin, to be around people who cared for me. For once, I was happy.
Now I believe they would all be better off, had they never met me.
If only I could break out of this accursed wooden prison and free Max. Korin needs him. Without him, I don’t know if Korin will be able to find Raijom, or what he’ll do if Raijom discovers a new method of locating him.
Alas, I’m nothing but a Gelin-blooded failure. Unable to free myself. Unable to stand up to my father. Maybe I deserve this for even thinking I could break away from the Academy and prove myself. For thinking that maybe I could make a life outside of the Academy. A life with Korin . . .
As I write this, I notice that there is no fight left in me. Yesterday, my anger was strong enough to convince me that I could escape this situation. Having faced eldrhims, a dragon, and an evil wizard, my confidence had been bolstered. Paired with the caring support my new friends had shown me during our time together, I’d felt I could do anything.
Yet, here I am today, locked in my wooden cell, helpless. Four wizards of my father’s own choosing—wizards of the Third Rank, no less—are bringing me back to Tahron, to the Academ
y. The bastards won’t even speak to me. The night I was taken, they only told me that my father was furious and had some big plan for me. Nothing else. They won’t let me speak to Max, making them the only company I’ll have for the next three weeks. Maybe less, given the pace they’ve been setting.
They took everything from Korin. He and Til’ are all alone with nothing to their name.
Please, Loranis, let them be okay.
Chapter 4
Out of the Woods with Wood
Garlan was kind enough to shove me out the carriage door, landing me on my ass in true Korinalis Karell fashion.
After our rough ejection from the carriage, Til’ and I sat morosely outside of Byweather’s northern gate. The sun hadn’t yet taken dominance over the chilly fall morning, and the dirt road leading away from the city was still quiet enough to allow the distant sounds of gulls to reach us. The damp ocean air helped to clear my senses a bit, but not nearly as much as I’d have liked.
As I sat there rubbing my wrists and dealing with all-over body pain, Til’ suddenly burst into excited conversation, his voice dry and raspy.
“We’re free, Korin! Now we can go save Max, Sal’, and Xalis. You guys can go after Raijom in Gualain, and I can meet up with you after I take Xalis to the Snowy Waste. Do you think a dragon would fly me to Gualain? That would make everything so much easier. Can you believe we’re free? Galius is finally going to get his just rewards for stealing from the Kolari and causing us so much trouble.” Til’ shadowboxed the empty air.
As Til’ segued into one of his trademark chatters, his big silver eyes lit up excitedly. His shrill voice rung with the childlike quality I’d grown accustomed to. His renewed perkiness was only slightly marred by the blood crusted under his nose and around his lips.
However, as guileless as he now appeared, there’d been an atypical, violent rage ready to rip its way out of him back in Galius’s basement. I couldn’t just ignore that.
“Til’, I need to ask you something,” I interrupted, running a hand through my uneven chestnut hair. Feeling my hair’s choppiness made me recall Sal’s butchering attempt at giving me a magical haircut when I’d first met her. It took a couple of controlled breaths to hold back the tears that began to form at the corners of my eyes.
Til’ went silent and looked to me expectantly.
“What was that back there?” I questioned, gesturing to the city behind us. I licked my lips, but my mouth was too dry to work up any moisture. “By Olith’s blood, I thought you were about to kill someone. That’s not like you.” Olith is the god of vengeance.
Til’s excitement faded, his eyes dropping. “I . . . I don’t know,” he began sheepishly. “I just found myself wanting Galius dead.”
Til’s admission shocked me. The Kolari value all life. Granted, I’d seen him slay eldrhims, but they were monsters that had been trying to kill us. Hell, even killing a rabbit for one of our meals once had involved a prayer to Loranis afterwards.
“Galius is the reason that Bhaliel is dead,” he continued sullenly. “If he’d never stolen the egg . . . I just . . . I just kind of snapped for a moment. If I hadn’t been tied up . . .”
I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Til’, it’s okay. Galius did cause a lot of problems, but remember, if he hadn’t stolen the dragon egg, Bhaliel would’ve never found it, and Xalis wouldn’t have been hatched. The egg would still be buried back in Isaeron, and no one would’ve ever known what it truly was. I’m positive that Bhaliel would rather have had things turn out this way than to have Xalis forever kept from the world.”
Til’ nodded, giving me a weak grin. “You’re right, Korin. I’ll try to keep my head from now on.” He tucked his windblown hair behind his slightly pointed ears, shifting his gaze to the north. “So, what’s the plan now?”
What was the plan, indeed. We had no money, no food, and no supplies. Our faces were smeared with blood, and our dirty, smelly clothing had definitely seen better days. We wouldn’t be able to enter any towns without drawing unwanted attention in our present condition.
I briefly considered trekking back to the McAlwains for help, but that would’ve taken us out of our way and wasted precious time. Besides they’d already done so much for us with so little given back in return. I hated the idea of asking for more. That, and I still wasn’t sure how to tell them that we’d collapsed part of their ancestors’ shrine to the god of livestock.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “We should probably find some water to get cleaned up and have a drink before we’re completely dehydrated. I suppose we could then head to Geeron and plot our next steps from there.” I took in the road leading north from Byweather. “Maybe we can find someone on the way who’ll be willing spare some food or a few coins.”
“Money’s no concern,” Til’ said with a sly grin, his eyes gleaming mischievously.
I almost laughed. “Well, we have none, and we’ll need it to get to Tahron,” I responded. “That’s a valid concern in my book. Plus, I don’t like that look you’re giving me, runt. We’re not stealing anything, okay?”
Til’ gave me an affronted scowl before slipping back into a grin. Instead of voicing an immediate answer, he jumped to his feet and offered his hand to help me up, even though his head barely came up to my chest.
“First of all, I already told you that I’m tall for my race, which is more than you can say for yourself,” he grunted as he pulled me to my feet. He had me there. “Secondly, remember, I’m a Kolarin. Leave the money problem to me.”
****
Til’s idea for getting us back on our feet for the trip to Tahron was based on getting to Geeron first, but we happened by a ridiculous stroke of luck well before then.
Not an hour after starting for Geeron, we met an elderly merchant who’d left Byweather shortly after we had. The merchant—I forget his name—gave us a ride on his horse-drawn cart all the way to Geeron, claiming he’d planned on passing through the city to lighten his inventory anyway. He even fed us some simple rations during the trip.
He asked for nothing in return, content with just having the opportunity to meet one of the Kolari before old age rooted him down for good. Til’ was able to give him much more than that, though.
The merchant happened to have a set of chisels among his goods and had no problem gifting them to Til’ in exchange for some Kolarin woodwork. The Kolari are known for their woodwork; it’s highly valued and typically fetches incredible prices.
Til’ maintained that the chisels were too big, inflexible, and cumbersome to create anything of true Kolarin quality. Even so, he carved several detailed panoramas on some wooden planks from the merchant’s wares as well as three walking sticks covered with intricate, swirling patterns from tree branches we picked up on the way to Geeron. Til’ called the work subpar. I called it breathtakingly beautiful.
The merchant was pleasantly stunned that Til’ had crafted so much for him on the leisurely two-day trip to Geeron. He not only let Til’ keep the chisels, but also gave us a silver coin along with a handful of copper ones, two cloaks to replace the ones we’d lost, and a dagger each. The daggers were simple things—wood-handled and dull—but at least we were armed. I was made wholly aware of what Til’ had meant about money being of no concern.
It was actually refreshing to find myself in Geeron again. After spending most of Til’s earnings on two armfuls of lumber scraps at a local mill, we used the rest to get a room and our first decent meal in days—hot potato soup, fresh bread, and ham slices.
By the time we went to bed, Til’ had crafted enough Kolarin woodwork to easily net us horses and supplies for our trip to Tahron. By the next afternoon, we’d be on our way. Things were starting to look up.
However, it’s hard to find happiness in such things when worry for your best friend and the woman you love presses down on you like a mountain resting on your shoulders.
Chapter 5
Dead Rumors
Contracts are stupid. If I’d kno
wn I could’ve simply traveled to Isaeron and convinced a Kolarin to travel with me, the past three years of my life would’ve been much simpler. Also, my freedom would never have been in jeopardy.
Though, I wouldn’t have met Sal’ or Til’ if I’d never been a Holder . . .
Okay, maybe Contracts aren’t all bad.
Til’ had only spent a few hours on his woodwork, and it took us a mere two hours in the morning to sell it to local shops. It would’ve taken me multiple Activated Contracts over several weeks or months to even come close to how much we made off of Til’s woodwork during our brief time in Geeron.
We departed the city before midday, the sun still just shy of its peak. Between the contents of our new backpacks and the saddlebags on our new dappled mares, Til’ and I were fully equipped to begin our journey. I’d also purchased a basic shortsword and a plain leather scabbard. The weapon was well-made, though it was nothing compared to the Vesteir-sigiled shortsword that Chasus had given me.
Despite all we’d bought, Til’s coin purse still clinked with a small handful of silver and copper coins as we rode northward. We were finally on our way to rescue Max and Xalis. Hopefully we’d being able to drag Sal’ away from her father in the process.
The only problem was that I had absolutely no idea how we were going to pull it off.
****
After six days on horseback and five nights camping under the stars, Estus, Urdale’s capital, was within sight. The towering keep of the king’s castle soared above the city’s walls, mostly shadow in the orange glow of the evening sky.
Only a month before, Estus would’ve been my next goal, the city where I may finally find my parents. However, I now knew that my parents weren’t in Estus. They likely weren’t in Amirand at all. Had they been, Max surely would’ve been able to locate them. But if they weren’t in Amirand, where could they possibly be?