by Cas Peace
“Faith?” whispered Robin.
“Yes,” cried Marik suddenly. “Faith in you, you lackwit! She kept telling me over and over that you’d come for her. Especially once she got me to release that nasty black stallion.”
“That was you?”
“Of course it bloody was! Gods but you’re stupid, what does she see in you? Who else did she have to help her? You weren’t here, were you?”
Rienne lost her temper. “Shut up, you two.” The two men ceased their bickering and stared at her. “Let’s worry about the details once we’re out of here, alright? Count, how do we break this chain?”
Marik took a deep breath. “It’s not very strong, it’s only silver. Wedge a sword-point through the links, that should do it.”
His face drawn and pale, Robin set his sword through one of the links as near to the manacles as he dared. With his foot on the longer section of chain, he levered away at the link until it finally broke.
“Marik, give me your cloak,” he said. The Count rather reluctantly surrendered his thick velvet mantle and Robin wrapped it gently around the thin, limp body in the straw. “Will we do any damage if we move her?” he asked Rienne. “I can’t use metaforce to support her while she’s wearing spellsilver.”
“Just be careful of those ribs, some are definitely broken.”
“You have no choice, anyway,” muttered Marik.
Robin glared at him and gathered Sullyan into his arms, wary of the spellsilver collar. “Let’s go.”
They left the awful cell and Marik kicked the door shut. It wouldn’t fool anyone for long, thought Rienne, not without the guard there.
She followed the men down the line of cells, trying to ignore the few feeble cries she heard. Her instinct was to help, but there was nothing she could do. The dreadful smells of the place—human waste, old blood and the rank stench of fear—assailed her senses as she ran.
They reached the next gate and Marik seemed to take an age finding the right key. Rienne had to stop herself from screaming and Robin was breathing heavily behind her. Eventually the gate opened and they passed through. Marik locked it behind them; it might buy them some time.
A dark and slimy passageway, rank with damp and mold, led toward the final door in the palace’s outer wall. It was bolted and locked from the inside. Halting just before it, the Count turned to Robin. “If your friends haven’t dealt with the guards, we’re all dead.”
Robin glowered at him. “They did.” Nevertheless, he stood listening at the door for a few moments. “No sound.”
He closed his eyes and Rienne felt him questing outward for contact. Quickly, she glanced at the burden he carried. Sullyan hadn’t shown a single sign of life since Robin had lifted her. Rienne thought she might very well have died in the Captain’s arms and she could see no vital signs. The fur trim of Marik’s cloak was unruffled by any breath. Rienne sighed; there was nothing she could do until they reached someplace safe.
Robin’s eyes opened. “All clear, both guards were disposed of. But Bull thinks Rykan’s already returned, there was a commotion near the main gate about ten minutes ago.”
“Bloody hell,” rasped the Count. “Quickly.” He drew back the topmost bolt and Rienne grabbed the lower one, leaving the Count free to work the large key in the rather rusty lock. He had trouble with it so she lent her strength to his and together they got it to turn. The door squealed on its hinges alarmingly. A dark and bulky shadow suddenly loomed beside them, making Rienne jump, but it was only Bull bringing the horses over.
“Don’t ask,” snapped Robin as Bull glanced at Sullyan. “Let’s get out of here as fast as we can.”
He handed the unconscious woman to the big man and swung onto his horse. Bull passed her back to him and handed him the reins. He helped Rienne onto her own mount and looked inquiringly at Marik.
“He can share with me, I’m the lightest,” hissed Rienne, clearing the stirrup for the Count, who vaulted up behind her. Bull leaped for his own horse and they kicked their mounts to a gallop, Robin leading the way into the trees.
Rienne was relieved to see Cal and Taran waiting for them. “A patrol’s been sent from the compound,” said Taran as soon as they reached him. “They’re in black and silver, so they’re Rykan’s.”
“Curse it,” moaned Marik, “I knew the gate guards were suspicious. They must have tipped off the sergeant-at-arms when you didn’t come back. Let’s hope they think you’re deserters because if they’ve missed me or looked in the cells, we’re in real trouble. We’d better circle around to the southwest in case Rykan left scouts in the forest. We can head north again later.”
“We’ll follow your lead,” said Robin, “you know the area better than we do. Just don’t head straight back to Cardon. That’s the first place they will look.”
Marik gave him a withering stare before kicking Rienne’s horse to a gallop. The others leaped to follow, senses strained to the limits.
As they fled deeper into the midnight woods, Rienne prayed their luck would hold. Against all odds, they had snatched Sullyan from right under Rykan’s nose. The euphoria of that still flowed through her veins, adding to the adrenaline of their flight. But she knew it wouldn’t last. Exhaustion would overtake them, if Rykan’s swordsmen didn’t get there first. And what of Sullyan herself? What injuries had she sustained? Rienne badly wanted to examine her, give her what treatment she could. Their efforts would count for nothing if this wild ride through the darkness killed her.
Unable to follow her instincts, Rienne clung to her horse’s mane. She prayed, as hard as she knew how, that Sullyan would survive.
The End
Glossary
Albian Characters
Adyn. The Manor’s quartermaster.
Amanus Elijah. Taran’s deceased father, an Artesan Adept.
Baily. A captain at the Manor under Colonel Vassa.
Beris Anton (major—deceased). Sullyan’s former commanding officer.
Bull, or Bulldog. Major Sullyan’s aide.
Cal Tyler. Taran’s Artesan Apprentice.
Dexter. A corporal at the Manor under Captain Tamsen.
Dyler. A farmer from Hyecombe, friend of Jaspen.
Elias Rovannon. Albia’s High King.
Emos. Major Sullyan’s valet.
Jaspen. A farmer from Hyecombe, friend of Dyler.
Jerrim Vassa. Colonel at the Manor, General Blaine’s second in command.
Hanan. Chief Healer at the Manor.
Hyram. General Blaine’s valet.
Kandaran (deceased). Albia’s former High King; Elias’s murdered father.
Mathias Blaine. The Manor’s senior officer and General-in-Command to High King Elias.
Milo. Keeper of tavern on the way to the Manor.
Morin. A sergeant at the Manor under Captain Parren.
Parren. A captain at the Manor under Colonel Vassa.
Paulus. Hyecombe’s innkeeper and village elder.
Rienne Arlen. A healer, and Cal’s lover.
Robin Tamsen. A captain at the Manor under Major Sullyan.
Rusch. A sergeant at the Manor under Captain Parren.
Sofira. Elias’s Queen.
Solet. The Manor’s stablemaster.
Sullyan. A major at the Manor under General Blaine.
Tad Greylin. Young kitchen boy at the Manor.
Taran Elijah. An Artesan who is desperate to learn his craft.
The Baron. Mysterious ally of Rykan, Duke of Kymer.
Wil. A corporal at the Manor under Captain Tamsen.
Andaryan Characters
Galet. Successor to Perik as lead huntsman.
Harva. Marik’s elderly former nursemaid.
Heron. Sonten’s Artesan commander.
Hierarch (the). Andaryon’s ultimate ruler.
Imris. Sonten’s young Artesan messenger.
Jaskin. Sonten’s nephew.
Marik. Count of Cardon province under Rykan.
Nazir. One of Marik’s minor nobles
.
Perik. Lead huntsman prior to Galet’s appointment.
Rykan. Duke, Lord of Kymer province and aspirant to the Andaryan throne.
Sonten. Duke Rykan’s ambitious general. Lord of Durkos province.
Verris. Rykan’s greedy Artesan commander.
Realms of the World
First Realm—Endormir
Endormirians are sometimes known as ‘Roamerlings’ because of their itinerant habits. They are small and slim, dark skinned, with brown or black eyes showing hardly any whites. The Artesan gift runs only through the males, and gifted males always become clan-leaders. As Endomir suffers from severe winter conditions, its people cross the Veils into the other realms for the winter months, where they are well known as traders.
Second Realm—Sinnia
Sinnians are tall and milk-haired, with pale skin. They live in clans and were once nomadic but now live in settlements. All are born able to control their metaforce up to the rank of Adept and are thus considered ‘sports’. Their race often produces highly gifted musicians and storytellers.
Third Realm—Relkor
Relkorians are small, fierce and stocky, notorious for raiding the other realms for slaves to work their mines and quarries. Their Artesans, both male and female, invariably become slave-lords.
Fourth Realm—Albia
Albia is the human realm. The Artesan gift runs through both male and female lines, each gender being equal in potential. The craft is currently out of favour due to raiding by both Relkorian and Andaryan Artesans. Albians widely believe that all Artesans use their powers only for gain and control.
Fifth Realm—Andaryon
A warlike race characterised by eyes with slit pupils. They fight constantly amongst themselves, vying for position within the Hierocracy. The Artesan gift passes only through the male line and females play a minor and downtrodden role. Only the most powerful Artesan can become and hold the rank of Hierarch. Their battles for supremacy are governed by strict, ritualistic laws.
Terms
Artesan. A person born with the ability to control metaforce and master the four primal elements.
Codes of Combat. Strict laws governing any conflict between Andaryan nobles.
Demons. Derogatory term used in Albia to describe those of the Andaryan race.
Earth ball. An explosive sphere of Earth element formed by an Artesan for use as a weapon.
Fellan. A dark, aromatic and bitter beverage brewed from the seeds of the fellan-plant.
Firefield. A barrier formed from the primal element of Fire, through which only Artesans can pass. Firefields formed by those of inferior Artesan rank can easily be destroyed by those of a higher rank.
Firewater. Incredibly strong liquor.
Kingsman. Term used to describe members of the High King’s fighting forces.
Metaforce (also called life force). The force of existence pertaining to all things, both animate and inanimate.
Perdition. A state of non-being for the soul—a place where souls with no ultimate destination reside.
Primal elements. Earth, Water, Fire and Air.
Portway. Structure formed by an Artesan from a primal element—usually Earth or Water—which gives its creator access through the Veils.
Psyche. An Artesan’s unique and personal pattern through which they can manipulate metaforce and channel the primal elements.
Roamerling. Slightly derogatory term for the nomads of Endormir.
Sally port. A small door within a larger fortified barrier, allowing only one person to pass through at a time.
Substrate. The medium in which the primal elements reside, and in which the world and all things have their being.
Tangwyr. Monstrous Andaryan raptor trained to hunt men.
The Pact. Widely believed to have been brokered in Andaryon by an Albian Master-elite, in order to reduce Andaryan raids on Albia. Apparently supported by the current Hierarch.
The Staff. Mysterious and terrible weapon capable of stealing and storing metaforce. Can only be used by Artesans.
The Veils. Misty barriers separating the five Realms of the World. Only Artesans have the power to move through the Veils.
The Void. Dark abyss at the end of life into which all souls pass before reaching their final destination.
The Wheel. Central principle of Albian faith.
Witch. Derogatory term for an Artesan.
Artesan ranks and their attributes
Level one: Apprentice. Person born with the Artesan gift and the ability to influence the first primal element of Earth. Able to hear other Artesans speaking telepathically but unable to initiate such speech.
Level two: Apprentice-elite. Has some skill in influencing their own metaforce. Has attained mastery over the element of Earth. Able to initiate telepathic speech but only with Artesans already known to them. Able to build substrate structures, identify a person by the pattern of their psyche, and counter metaphysical attack to some degree.
Level three: Journeyman. Has mastery over Earth and is able to influence Water. Able to build portways and travel through the Veils. Has some skill in using metaforce for offense. Also able to initiate psyche-overlay and converse telepathically with any other Artesan. Possesses some self-healing potential.
Level four: Adept. Has mastery over both Earth and Water. Able to build more complex substrate structures such as corridors. Able to influence where such structures emerge. Possesses stronger offensive and defensive capabilities. Able to merge psyche fully with other Artesans. Increased healing abilities.
Level five: Adept-elite. Has mastery over Earth and Water and is able to influence Fire. Possesses great healing powers which can even aid the ungifted (with their permission). Able to initiate powersinks and merges of psyche. Able to construct such structures as Firefields.
Level six: Master. Has mastery over Earth, Water and Fire. Able to control the power of an inferior Artesan against their will. Control over personal metaforce now almost total. Possesses incredible healing powers.
Level seven: Master-elite. Has mastery over Earth, Water and Fire and is able to influence Air, the most capricious primal element. Able to absorb a lesser or even equal-ranked Artesan’s power and metaforce provided some link or permission (however tenuous) can be found.
Level eight: Senior Master. Has complete mastery over all four primal elements. Is able to absorb another Artesan’s power by force, even sometimes without a link. Possesses a high degree of metaphysical (and usually spiritual) strength.
Level nine: Supreme Master. It has never been fully established whether this rank actually exists. Supreme Masters are supposedly able to influence Spirit - largely regarded as the mythical ‘fifth element.’ Ancient texts refer only to the possibility; no mention has ever been found of a being attaining Supreme Masterhood.
Sport or lay-Artesan. Freaks of nature, sports are thought to be able to control their own metaforce from birth, to whatever level of strength they inherently possess. As they receive no training their working is often undetectable. They are also believed to be able to ‘hear’ the thoughts of those around them; gifted or ungifted, and directly, not through the substrate.
Cas Peace
Cas Peace was born and brought up in the lovely county of Hampshire, in the UK, where she still lives. On leaving school, she trained for two years before qualifying as a teacher of equitation. During this time she also learned to carriage-drive. She spent thirteen years in the British Civil Service before moving to Rome, where she and her husband, Dave, lived for three years. They return whenever they can.
As well as her love of horses, Cas is mad about dogs, especially Lurchers. She enjoys dog agility training and currently owns two rescue Lurchers, Milly and Milo. Milly has already had some success in the agility ring, and Milo will begin competing in late 2011. Cas loves country walks, working in stained glass and folk singing. She has also written a nonfiction book, “For the Love of Daisy,” which tells the life story of her beautiful Dalmatia
n. Details and other information can be found on her website, www.caspeace.com