Kael’s eyes glowed golden-yellow before he sprinted out of the Great Hall in a blur of golden cape and tunic. He reappeared a few seconds later, holding the Book of Records, a quill, and a jar of ink from Nolan’s personal quarters on the other side of the manor. Kael shoved the quill and ink into Nolan’s hands and opened the book.
“Hm …” Kael’s finger traveled down the page. “So Cadogan was just sitting in a pub? Well, it serves the idiot right.” His eyebrows rose, and the corners of his mouth twitched. “And he used his Shay power.”
“Ah, yes,” the duke said, wringing his hands. “We won’t have that problem anymore. We’ve blindfolded him. And I doubt he would want to try again; my men made him regret that action.”
Kael rolled his eyes. He slammed the book closed and shoved it into Nolan’s chest. “Come on. Let’s take care of this annoyance as quickly as possible.”
***
On either side of the door to the West Tower sat two of Alton’s guards. Their swords lay tucked under their chairs, and their chins rested on their chests in peaceful slumber. One of them let out a soft snore. Nolan cringed.
Kael cleared his throat.
The snoring stopped. One guard stretched before opening his eyes. He looked around casually, at least until his gaze locked on Kael.
Eyes popping open, he slugged the other guard in the arm. Both jumped to their feet. “General Trividar,” he said. “I had no idea you’d arrived in Alton already.”
Kael grunted and examined them as if doing a routine inspection. “Is sleeping your usual manner of watching prisoners?”
“Of course not, sir.”
“So I can expect to never find you in this position again?”
The man shifted uncomfortably. “Of course not, sir.”
“For your sake, I should hope not. If I ever find you sleeping on duty again, the consequences will be … grave.” Golden-yellow light glowed in his eyes. He leaned toward the man. “Now let us in.”
The two men fell over each other trying to open the door first. After a monumental struggle, one soldier came out victorious. He opened the door with a pathetic flourish, allowing Kael and Nolan to pass through.
The door closed with a reverberating thud. Finally, unable to control himself, Kael erupted into boisterous laughter that echoed off the gray walls of the empty stairwell.
“Was that necessary?”
“Oh, Nolan.” He wiped tears from his eyes. “You never had a sense of humor.”
“They were afraid of you before you showed your light,” he said. “You’re such a twit.”
Kael’s grin vanished, and his eyes glowed again. He pressed his face close to Nolan’s, his teeth clenched. “Those men out there, though they wear the crest of the king, are just as pathetic as you.” He jabbed a finger into Nolan’s chest. “They need to be reminded that the soldiers of the Shay Rol’dan are the only ones with real power and control.” His Shay light faded. He turned and climbed the stairs as if the quarrel had never happened.
Flaunting powers was control? More like stupid. Arrogant. Nolan had hidden his Shay the last two years. Now that was control. He’d like to see Kael pull that one off.
Nolan inhaled, calming the frustration grating his already frazzled nerves. Then he remembered the task. He would come face to face, once again, with the Traitor of Faylinn. Would the traitor say anything in front of Kael? Nolan’s stomach knotted and his mouth turned to wool. What in Brim’s name am I doing?
“Nolan!” Kael called. “You’re not that slow, are you?”
He could do this. He really had no other choice. At least they’d blindfolded the prisoner.
“Nolan!” Kael growled.
Nolan forced his feet up the stairs and joined his brother.
Kael pulled at the handle, muttering a curse under his breath. Kael awakened his Speed, shot away, and reappeared with a key. After unlocking the door, he said, “Take this.” In a toss obviously meant to plummet down the stairs, Kael threw the key.
Without thinking, Nolan seized it from the air.
Kael eyed him suspiciously for a long time.
Nolan forced a smile and held up the key. “Got it.”
Kael grunted. “Well, don’t lose it.” He turned his attention back to the door.
Nolan swallowed hard. It was a good catch. Too good. This tension between them had distracted him. Nolan glared at the offending key. Not knowing what else to do with it, he crammed it into his leather pouch.
The door groaned open, and Nolan squeezed the Book of Records in his hands. Four chains connected the prisoner to the wall, securing his limbs like a savage animal. The links piled in a heap by the traitor’s hands, enough for him to stand and walk around the cell; however, the man didn’t look as if he could move much at all. He sat with his battered head resting against the wall at an awkward angle. It surprised Nolan how many more injuries the man had acquired since just last night. Most of his face was cut, bruised, or swollen. And judging by his stuttered breathing, not all of his injuries were visible.
The traitor, Emery Cadogan, shifted his head. Nolan took a step back, a shudder traveling down his spine; the traitor’s blindfold was gone.
As if he had heard Nolan’s thoughts, Emery searched the ground, his chains clattering. Finally, he picked up a dirty rag that had been his blindfold.
“I hope we can speak without pretenses,” Emery said. He eyed Kael while fingering the cloth. “It’s been a long time, Lieutenant. Six years, I believe. Oh, but wait … You’re the general now, aren’t you? I suppose your heroics the night I escaped helped in your early promotion.”
“Shut your mouth, Cadogan.” Kael drove a heel into Emery’s knee. “The only time you will speak is to answer my questions.”
Emery pressed his lips together, stifling a cry. He peered up at Kael, clenching his teeth in an expression that resembled a grin.
Kael turned to Nolan, scowling. “Let’s pretend you aren’t an idiot. Do I need to open the book for you?”
Nolan resisted the urge to chuck the book at Kael’s head; instead, he placed the Book of Records on the dirty floor and sat. The cold stones seeped through his breeches, sending a shiver through him. He arranged the jar of ink, removed the cork stopper, and readied his quill. After all was in order, he found Emery’s brown eyes fixed on him. Nolan choked a breath and looked away.
“What were you doing at the pub?” Kael began.
“Usually, people go to pubs for drinks,” Emery answered. “I figured Aunt Bonty’s was as good a place as any to get one.”
Nolan flinched as Emery’s head wrenched to the side. Kael’s eyes blazed golden-yellow, and fresh blood painted his knuckles.
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear,” Kael said. “Why are you here in Alton?”
Amusement hinted in the corners of Emery’s bleeding lips. “I already told you,” he said. “I wanted a drink.”
The telltale sign of fury flickered on Kael’s face. Nolan recognized it all too well.
Without warning, Emery slammed to the ground.
Kael appeared on top of him, straddling his chest, his hands squeezing Emery’s throat.
Nolan jumped to his feet. He thought Kael would stop, but the fury that lined his face only increased. Emery struggled, gasped for breath, and then made no sound at all.
Nolan’s eyes widened. Kael was arrogant, yes. But he’d never seen him like this. He’d lost it. And now, he would kill this man, right in front of him. Conflicting thoughts flashed through his mind. If Kael killed him, Nolan wouldn’t have to worry. His secret would be safe.
The prisoner’s face turned purple. As much as Nolan wanted the threat taken away, he’d have to live with this image the rest of his life. He couldn’t do it. It’d make him as bad as Kael.
Nolan grabbed Kael’s arm and yanked. “Kael, stop!”
Something hit Nolan hard, and he flew backward. Pain shot through his head as it collided with the wall.
Kael stood, nostrils flaring, a
s his Shay light blazed. “Keep your mouth shut, Nolan! I’m the king’s general. You will respect me. Just write down what’s said like the stupid little scribe you are.”
Kael picked up the Book of Records and tossed it in Nolan’s direction. Then he turned to Emery and kicked him solidly in his side. Emery curled into a ball and moaned.
“You may think you can get away with your little games, Cadogan,” Kael said, “but if you hide your answers from King Alcandor, you’ll wish I had killed you instead.”
Emery coughed and wiped his lips, leaving a streak of blood and saliva across the back of his hand. “You wouldn’t kill me,” he wheezed. “That would take the pleasure away from the king doing it himself. And you wouldn’t want to disappoint the king, now would you?”
“Why did you come to Alton?”
Emery smiled. “Aunt Bonty’s is near the center of town. You really should try one of her ales.”
“You lie!”
Emery answered, almost too quiet to hear, “If you had Empathy, you’d know for certain, eh?”
Nolan’s jaw dropped, and he quickly closed it so Kael wouldn’t see. Though Kael beat him, wore the Rol’dan colors, and led the entire army of the king, this Emery fellow was the one in charge.
“If you were hoping I’d kill you,” Kael said, “you’ll have to be disappointed. But don’t worry, Cadogan, once you see the king, you’ll get your turn.”
Kael kicked the quill and ink. The bottle fell over, oozing thick, dark ink onto the floor. “Nolan, in your records state that the traitor was uncooperative and needed to be reprimanded. And inform the duke that the traitor must be kept here until I return from the Tournament of Awakening. At that point, I will escort him to Faylinn. The soldiers of Alton can continue their watch. And, I can see by his current condition, they’ll give him everything he deserves.”
Nolan stooped and turned the ink bottle up, staining his fingers in the process.
“I hope you can remember all of that, without having to jot it down,” Kael said.
“I’ll do my best, Kael.” Nolan laced his words with sarcasm.
Kael sneered. “That’s General Trividar to you.”
Nolan didn’t respond; instead, he studied the ink bottle to see how much remained. He’d had enough of Kael to last until next year.
Kael’s Shay light brightened. “I’ll return in two weeks for the tournament. Try not to screw this up, Nolan.” And without another word, Kael sped away.
Nolan’s head pounded, his leg still throbbed, and half his ink coated the stones. But despite that, he felt much better now that Kael had left. He started to relax, but his blood froze when he realized Kael had left him alone with the prisoner.
Nolan fixed his gaze on the ink-stained stones. Several minutes crept by. Nolan knew he should leave, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He had to find out what the man knew. As time continued, his fear passed along with it, ebbing away until curiosity took hold.
Nolan raised his eyes slowly, expecting to find two purple orbs glowing. Instead, Emery sat on the ground, his head hung low as he took slow, labored breaths. He coughed, and his body went rigid while his face contorted.
Nolan took a step toward him. Emery’s bruised face raised, but instead of a violet light, kind brown eyes studied him.
Emery smiled, his swollen lips stretching across white teeth. “Are you always impressed when someone gets beaten?”
Nolan started. “What did you say?”
“You were impressed when the general beat me.”
He’d been horrified and frightened. But impressed? He didn’t remember feeling that way at all.
“No, you’re right,” he said, as if answering Nolan’s thoughts. “It wasn’t when he beat me. I felt your emotions afterward.”
His question finally took form in Nolan’s mind. He was impressed, but it wasn’t because Kael beat him.
At that moment, Nolan realized this traitor was no different than he was. He’d evaded the army. Nolan could easily be him, trapped in some tower, waiting for death. And it could still happen if his secret got out. However, the difference between Emery and him was that Emery fought while he hid.
Emery stared, as if waiting for an answer.
Nolan finally said, “You impressed me because you stood up to him.”
“Ah! So that’s why.” He chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I did. It’s partially habit, I’m afraid. I was his superior at one time. And then there’s just the enjoyment of antagonizing him. He’s always been easy to annoy.” Emery flinched while taking a slow breath. “So why would that impress you? You stood up to him as well. You even called him by name.”
“Brothers at odds still call each other by name.”
“Brothers, eh?” He nodded. “Yes, I can see the similarities, especially in the eyes.”
As he examined Nolan, his Empathy light glowed, and his power pushed into Nolan’s mind. Nolan recoiled, and the Empathy abruptly left.
“Forgive me, Nolan,” Emery said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Sweat trailed down Nolan’s face, his instincts nudging him to run.
“I am sorry,” Emery said, his eyes pleading. “I promise. I won’t search you again.” He studied Nolan again before speaking. “How old are you?”
Nolan tensed. Why does he want to know? Nolan considered making up a random number, but then he changed his mind. The man was an Empathy user, for Brim’s sake. He’d know if Nolan lied. And honestly, what difference did it make? It wasn’t as if he were hiding his age. “Seventeen,” he finally answered.
Emery’s brows raised in surprise. “Seventeen? How very interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Well,” he said. “You are seventeen and not in the ranks of the Rol’dan.”
The blood drained from Nolan’s face. By Brim, he knew. He’d expected as much, but to hear him say it aloud …
Nolan didn’t notice Emery’s hand supporting his elbow at first. When his head cleared, Nolan gasped and yanked his arm away.
“Are you all right?” Emery’s muscles trembled as he examined Nolan.
Nolan’s fears ebbed away. The man could barely stand, let alone attack him.
Emery staggered to the window, chains dragging, and grabbed the sill for support. “I felt your power last night,” he said weakly. “I must admit, it surprised me to discover you. I had no idea I would find one so powerful, right here in the manor. And your age makes it that much more intriguing.”
“Powerful?” Nolan asked, still dazed.
“Why, yes, Nolan. You see, when I use my power on someone, their Shay talks back to me. The stronger their power, the stronger it answers.” He smiled slowly. “Let’s just say your Shay has a very loud voice. And I am most curious to know which Shay it is.”
His comment slapped Nolan from his numbness. He stared. Emery didn’t know?
Emery pulled up his sleeve and examined a nasty gash. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’d hoped, very much, that it might be Healing.” He eyed Nolan expectantly. “You don’t have Healing, do you?”
Nolan didn’t answer him, but his silence apparently satisfied Emery.
“Hm,” Emery said, “what a shame.”
Nolan licked his dry lips. “I thought you’d tell.”
“Tell them of your power? Of course not, boy. Remember why I’m here: I’m a traitor because I left the army. I’m in the business of saving people from the Rol’dan, not throwing them into their arms. Your secret is safe with me.”
Relief flooded through him, and then a question smacked his mind. He saved people from the Rol’dan?
“I find those with powers before they take part in the trials,” Emery answered Nolan’s silent question. “Then I give them the chance at a different life.”
A different life? Nolan’s mind lingered so much on the idea, it took him a moment to realize Emery had asked him a question. “Did you say something?”
Emery’s expression softened. “I said, I have a favor to
ask of you.”
“I can’t free you,” Nolan answered. “There are guards—”
“Of course not. This is far more dangerous than helping me escape.”
Nolan gawked. What could be more dangerous than that?
“Since you are the scribe for Alton Manor,” he said, “I assume you’re the record keeper for your sector of the Tournament of Awakening?”
Nolan nodded.
“I’d like you to watch the new recruits, the ones who come into their powers. Find who might want a different path than the Rol’dan.”
“And how am I supposed to do that? I can’t read minds.”
Emery smiled slightly. “So Empathy isn’t your gift?”
Nolan grimaced. “How am I supposed to know such a thing?” he asked, hoping to redirect the discussion away from his Shay.
“I believe you’re a good judge of character.”
Even if he figured out who might be interested in a different life—whatever that meant—how could Nolan keep them from the Rol’dan? Once someone came into a Shay, they were automatically placed into their ranks. Deserting the army marked them as a traitor. Emery was a perfect example of those who avoided the king’s calling. Offering someone an alternative life sounded like a guaranteed way to reveal himself and get killed. Most people wanted to be Rol’dan.
“Some of my friends will arrive in Alton soon,” Emery said. “I came to Alton to search for Shay users who had not yet come into powers. My friends are meeting me here for the results of my search. But of course, I have found none … apart from you.
“I’ve struggled this time, finding those with powers,” Emery said. “Something is happening that I can’t explain. I believe my own power is weakening somehow, as well as those of my friends. It takes all of my concentration to find new Shay users. I had thought perhaps I was just missing them, that it was just me. But we’ve noticed that the numbers of Rol’dan recruits have dwindled as well. If what we suspect is true, I believe that soon there will be no more Shay users in all of Adamah.”
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