by AC Cobble
Already, billows of red and orange flame could be seen casting a glow in the belfry of the temple. Windows, set high above the frescos that banded the outside of the structure, hidden beneath the eaves of its roof, spilled angry glow, casting the scenes of death depicted along the front in terrible light. They made it two blocks down the wide, empty boulevard that led from the entrance and passed a barrier of cool air that pebbled the skin on Rew’s arms.
“Are we safe?” panted Raif, waving his hand as if to touch the invisible line they’d walked across.
“Safer,” said Rew, rubbing his hands together to chase away the brief chill, still trying to comprehend what had happened over the last quarter hour. “We should keep moving, though, just in case Jacob’s barrier isn’t as sound as he expected it to be.”
They slowed, falling into the cautious pace of those who’d moments before thought they were going to die but now, shockingly, were somehow spared. Behind them, they heard sharp cracks echoing from the temple as stone began to shatter in the heat of the growing fire.
Rew turned and walked backward, still moving away from the temple, watching as blooms of flame began to sprout hungrily from between the roof tiles. On the street, smoke or steam poured out of the sewers from where he guessed the crypts were being immolated by the worst of the inferno. It would destroy the corpses stored there, he was sure. Would it be enough to destroy the well of power that Vaisius Morden had been accumulating?
“I can feel the deaths, but I cannot draw from them,” said Cinda, walking backward just like Rew. “I was able to draw power when the spellcasters died, but it’s out of reach now. I think that cool air, the barrier we passed, is sealing the power of those deaths within.”
“It seems Jacob knew what he was talking about. Let’s hope it keeps the king from accessing the power as well,” responded Rew. “You could feel the deaths of the spellcasters? How many were there?”
“I felt the deaths, but not many,” said Cinda, shrugging. “The temple was empty except for the old man, so that’s no surprise. The spellcasters are too close together for me to count—“
There was an incredible, wrenching screech. The massive steel doors of the temple were flung onto the cobblestones, skidding in a shower of sparks as the metal bumped over stone. Streamers of smoke rose from the glowing doors like flags flapping behind a cavalry charge. The doors were half-melted from the heat of the flames inside of the temple and the spellcaster’s fire. They came to a rest a block and a half from the entrance of the burning building. Framed in the doorway, an inferno of brilliant flame forming a wall behind him, stood Prince Heindaw. His armor was black with soot, the glowing red runes barely visible before the fire.
“That’s not good.” Zaine trembled.
“No… it’s not,” agreed Rew. “Ah, I think we’d best run.”
“Where?” asked Raif. “Can we outlast him?”
“To the palace,” said Rew, turning and starting a lopping jog down the empty street.
“Won’t all his men be there?” questioned Zaine. “The traps we were worried about…”
“Ranger, maybe we should be going… literally anywhere else,” called Cinda.
“There’s a bit of a forest behind the palace,” said Rew between breaths. “I can use that strength to call for help, though I don’t know if there’s time for them to get here…”
“Ranger stuff,” muttered Zaine, already breathing heavy from the run. “I hope it works.”
“What else can we do? My sword bounced off Heindaw like I was poking him with a wet noodle. Raif’s greatsword won’t fare any better, and I don’t know if he even noticed your arrows. Unless an awful lot of people die and Cinda is able to draw the power, we don’t have the craft to get through that armor. As long as the suit remains powered, he’s invulnerable. King’s Sake, even if Cinda does find a well of power, I don’t know what we can do to him. He walked right through that fire.”
Zaine grunted, and Rew glanced behind them. Heindaw, his massive sword clutched in one armored fist, was running after them.
“Faster now. Run faster. A lot faster.”
The palace in Iyre was unlike any of the other palaces in Vaeldon. Those structures had either been built or been expanded upon following the rise of Vaisius Morden. In the years after his ascension, it became less important to protect the cities against foreign invasion but more important to protect against attack from within. The cities were frequently only lightly guarded, but the walls of the palaces themselves were heavily fortified. They were designed to stop small groups of intruders—spellcasters and assassins.
Iyre’s palace had a hardened section where the prince resided, but it had also been home to Vaisius Morden before modern concerns like fratricide had influenced architecture, so it still retained outdated features including ample grounds for hunting. Such a large space was impossible to guard and had fallen out of fashion in the other capitals, but it was exactly what Rew needed. Sprawling behind the palace was a thick forest, unused by Heindaw or his father before he’d become king, as they were interested in more dangerous game.
The forest wasn’t open to the citizens of Iyre, but it wasn’t difficult to access, either. There were no battlements, no ranks of crossbowmen training their weapons on anyone who approached. There was just a wall. The threat of angering the prince was more than enough to prevent most interlopers from considering climbing the thing, but Rew figured they’d already done enough to enrage his brother, so hopping the wall wasn’t going to make it any worse.
When they got to it, Zaine sprang at it like a monkey and was at the top in a breath. Raif and Rew knelt, boosting the other women up after the thief. Then, cursing and grunting, Rew helped Raif clamber up, the big fighter barely reaching the top with his fingers before kicking his boots and knocking Rew out from under him.
Leaping back to his feet, Rew saw Heindaw was two blocks away, his giant armored form clanking and screeching as he ran tirelessly down the street. How long could the prince keep it up? The armor must weigh five or six times what the prince himself did, but the enchanter appeared to have no difficulty moving in it.
Rew spun and jumped, catching the top of the wall then vaulting over it. He landed quietly on the wild grass inside. Raif crashed down next to him. Rew hauled the fighter to his feet and led the party running into the dark forest.
Behind them, Heindaw didn’t bother to climb the wall. He simply plowed through it, his armored elbow bursting a path through the mortar and stone like a battering ram.
The others close behind, Rew darted and wove his way into the undergrowth. The children stumbled and cursed, tripping over every exposed root, snagging their clothing on every jutting branch.
“Head west. Keep moving. Don’t try to fight. Don’t get caught,” snapped Rew. He turned east, angling toward an opening in the vegetation.
When he reached it, he burst into view and almost into Prince Heindaw’s grasp. The enchanted script etched into the armor flared alight, and Heindaw lunged at him. Rew, having meant to be seen but not so close, darted away with just a pace of room between him and his brother.
But once he got back within the depths of the wood, Rew changed direction and slipped away. Heindaw was just as fast and much stronger, but he wasn’t a ranger. He couldn’t move as freely and silently as Rew in the forest, and with the vegetation as cover, Rew was able to easily keep out of reach. The crash of breaking trunks and limbs followed, and suddenly, a brilliant golden glow shone from Heindaw’s armor.
It made it easier to spot the enchanter, and Rew was skilled enough he could keep out of sight until he wanted to be seen. Drifting away like a ghost, Rew showed himself enough that Heindaw kept after him, but he didn’t let the enchanter close the distance between them.
As he moved, Rew consciously brushed against the trees and bushes, the grasses and ferns. He sank his senses into the soil, only half his mind on staying away from the monstrosity looming behind him. For a ranger, keeping track of the b
rightly lit, screeching mass that was Heindaw was as easy as breathing. The rest of his mind, he turned toward absorbing the energy of the wood. It wasn’t as full of life as the wilderness, not by far, but it was something. It was rejuvenating, and as Rew darted and ducked, he felt his lungs filling with clean air, his blood pumping with the rhythms of natural life, and the peace of the land bolstering his soul.
Rew communed with the wild, drawing in and pushing back out. He sent his need out in a wave, following the lines of ancient magic that life inscribed upon the world. He pulsed a call for help and hoped that someone would hear. The wood thrummed around him, echoing that call. The message was on the air, traveling with the vibrancy of untamed space, the clawing urgency of growing life. Rew felt it, but would the others? Ang and Vurcell had enough sensitivity, but few of the others would be adept. Were they ready to respond?
Moving confidently, Rew caught his breath, easily avoiding the well-lit Heindaw, but he still had the problem that the prince was completely invulnerable to Rew’s sword. Heindaw hadn’t been slowed much by the fire, either. Would another form of magic work against him? Maybe Rew could trick a spellcaster into unleashing something against his master. He’d told Anne he wouldn’t call upon the power of Erasmus Morden, but he would if he had to. He wasn’t sure it would help. Heindaw appeared invulnerable to enchanted steel no matter how fast and hard it was swung, so the strength in the longsword would be the last resort.
Or could he simply outlast the prince? Eventually, Heindaw would tire, and once he stopped powering the armor, his protections would fail. Rew hoped so, at least.
It wasn’t until Rew burst into a clearing at the center of the wood that he realized Heindaw hadn’t been trying particularly hard to catch him. The forest had heard Rew’s call for help, but the ranger suddenly wasn’t sure it mattered. The golden glow wasn’t a light Heindaw had cast trying to spy Rew. It was a light he’d cast so that his men could find them, and when Rew burst out into the clearing, they did.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Heindaw, as always, was prepared. Three score soldiers, the only ones Rew had seen not wearing the vibrant colors common in Iyre, stepped out of the gloom beneath the trees. Rew slowed to a trot, walking to the center of the clearing, cursing himself for sinking his senses into the forest but not questing to see who else was out there. It was an amateur error, and it’d cost him. He’d thought no one would have been waiting for them in this abandoned piece of Iyre, but of course they were. Of course Heindaw had anticipated this was exactly where Rew would come running.
Behind him, smashing through the undergrowth, Heindaw broke free and stopped. “Where did you think you were going, Rew?”
“I thought I could lose you in the bushes,” claimed the ranger. He scratched his beard. He had kind of hoped that would work.
Heindaw barked a laugh. “You probably could have, but you kept letting me see you. Sacrificing yourself so that the girl can escape, was it? It’s no use, Rew. I’ve embedded wards surrounding this wood to keep all of you trapped within, and I’ve got a thousand men and a dozen spellcasters converging on this place and lining the walls. She’s trapped here. You all are. It’s only a matter of time before my people run her down. I’ve been leagues ahead of you since you left Eastwatch, Rew.”
Rew glared at the prince.
“Don’t believe me?” asked Heindaw with a laugh.
The prince raised a bronze-covered arm and gestured. Jacquiss emerged behind Heindaw’s men. After giving Rew an apologetic look, she joined the enchanter. Rew scowled at her. His suspicions were confirmed, but he didn’t feel particularly good about it.
“You didn’t wonder how she ended up with such valuable enchantments?” asked Heindaw, as if honestly curious Rew could have overlooked that. “I’m a little offended. Outside of my own armor, this is my best work. I don’t think anyone else in the kingdom could have fashioned this armor.”
“This entire time, then?” asked Rew, cutting his gaze between his brother and Jacquiss. “You had her waiting for me in Spinesend and then Stanton. You sent her after us in Jabaan, and then accompanying us all of the way here?”
“I’ve been following her—and you—every step of the way. You should take that as a compliment, Rew. I’d hoped you would take the opportunity we provided to slay Valchon, but I’ll settle for Calb. Not every plan works out as we envisioned, does it? Not that you ever planned for anything. You’ve always acted on instinct despite time and time again seeing where it got you.”
Rew shook his head. “I planned to come here and face you, and that worked.”
Heindaw snorted, the sound like a blast coming from inside of his helmet. “Aye, you planned to come here, but it only worked because I wanted you to come.”
“Why did you take Baron Fedgley?” asked Rew.
“You know why.”
“That’s why you sent Jacquiss to us,” guessed Rew, glancing at the woman before settling his gaze on Heindaw. “As soon as Fedgley was killed, you realized you needed his daughter.”
The prince’s armor clanked as he nodded. “Aye, I needed the girl, but I couldn’t collect her myself. How would it have looked to Father if I’d shown interest in an untrained necromancer? His hackles were raised after the baron died, and I wasn’t ready to fight him for her. Not yet. Vyar Grund was watching like a hawk. What other pieces had Father put into play? I knew there was no one else in the kingdom I could count on to bring her to me safely, so I used you. You brought her right to me, and you managed kill Calb and draw Father’s wrath while you did it. The perfect cover, for me. You’ve been playing my game since you sat down at the table, and it could not have worked out better.”
“We don’t have to be enemies, Heindaw,” said Rew. “We both want the lass for the same purpose. Let me—“
Heindaw held up a hand to stop Rew. “That’s Alsayer’s line, Brother. He’s wrong. We do have to be enemies.”
Rew grimaced.
“Alsayer isn’t coming to rescue you,” continued Heindaw. “He served his purpose, bringing you close to our brothers so you could strike your blow, but that’s done, and the next time I see him, I’ll kill him. He’s smart. Smarter than you, I’ll grant him that. I don’t think he’ll come back to Iyre. He’s a fool if he does, but I always tailor my plans to be adjusted. You wanted to talk? Fine. I’ll give you time while we see if our cousin makes an appearance. We’ll see if he answers the call you issued. You did call for him, didn’t you?”
Rew blinked, and Heindaw laughed, the sound sharp and brittle from within the enchanted armor.
“My wards, Rew. They’re designed to keep your friends inside the confines of this park, but they detect magic as well, even low magic. I, unlike our brothers, have never underestimated you. You took a different path, not a lesser one, but I always knew you’d come to the same place we did. You had to. It’s in our blood.”
Rew shook his head.
“He’s still communing, m’lord,” called a voice from the fringe of men who’d surrounded the clearing. “I can’t pick up what was said, but he established a connection. It’s-it’s to the trees, m’lord. I don’t understand. He’s somehow casting his magic through the trees. It’s a steady beat, coursing out to… somewhere.”
Rew gaped at the speaker in surprise. Even if the man didn’t understand what Rew was doing, the ranger couldn’t believe Heindaw had a minion who could sense it.
“My own ranger unit,” explained Heindaw, “a counter to Valchon’s use of Grund and Alsayer’s use of you. I’ve planned for everything, but the trees? Why would you talk to a tree?”
Rew did not respond.
Heindaw gestured to one of his men without turning from Rew. “What sorts of things can rangers get trees to do?”
“I’m not sure, m’lord,” mumbled the man. “He, ah, he’s utilizing magic we’re not familiar with. I think he’s communicating to someone, but I can’t be sure.”
“He’s the best of you, I’ll grant him that,” m
urmured Heindaw. “We’ll give it time, Rew, to see what you have done, who you called to. I’ll thank you if it’s Alsayer.”
“I suppose we’ll find out if his preparations can match yours,” declared Rew. He struggled to keep his face blank. Alsayer? Why did Heindaw believe he was allied with Alsayer? But whatever his brother’s thinking, it bought them critical time. Rew just had to figure a way to use it. He turned to Jacquiss. “I saw your father tonight.”
“Did you?” asked Jacquiss, frowning.
“He died in a fire.”
“I know,” she replied, glancing at Heindaw out of the corner of her eyes.
“He died in a fire tonight. Heindaw was there.”
Jacquiss shook her head. “My father has been lost for a long time, Ranger.”
“Heindaw uses that armor to implant suggestions into your thinking,” Rew told her. “He’s the one who convinced you that your father is dead.”
“Rew—“ began Heindaw.
“Why do you think your lover never called you back to Iyre!” barked Rew, interrupting the prince, hoping he was right and that the woman hadn’t returned to Iyre. “He could have portaled you here any time. He didn’t because he knew you’d learn the truth.”
“Rew,” repeated Heindaw, “I see what you’re doing, but you’ve underestimated dear Jacquiss. She joined me because she wanted to, not because of any trickery. She’s always known her father lived.”
“He’s dead now,” said Rew, staring into the woman’s eyes.
“There is peace in death,” replied Jacquiss, her tone flat, “the only peace any of us are due.”
“You told Heindaw of your father’s research, his mission. You spied on him.”
“My father learned secrets too dangerous for us to keep. His soul wasn’t in the thrall of the king like I told you, but it would have been. His death tonight is a mercy.” Jacquiss sighed and shook her head. “I regret many things, Ranger, but sharing with Heindaw how to defeat the king isn’t one of them. My father held his secrets close, but to no purpose. His way, we’d never defeat the king. I’ll grieve his death, but at least he passed without Vaisius Morden learning of what he knows. At least my father’s soul is free.”