Equilibrium: Episode 3

by CS Sealey

  Tiderius leaped forward, Anathris gleaming. He swung the blade at the first abomination as it tried to regain its footing. Blue fire rippled down the surface of the sword as he drove it into the beast’s flesh. A great eruption of sparks cascaded from the point of contact as the fiend bowed under the force of Tiderius’s attack.

  “Where is that bastard?” he asked, glancing around as the summoning disintegrated. “He must be close. I can almost smell him.”

  “So can I.”

  The three of them turned in surprise. A figure moved out of the shadows and, as it drew closer, Tiderius’s eyes grew wide in disbelief.

  “Angora! How – ”

  “Aiyla,” she explained stiffly, holding up her staff, the decorative tip glowing slightly in readiness.

  “Then she finally found you?” Tiderius asked.

  “She found me almost at once but I made her promise not to tell you.”

  “What!”

  “A few hours ago, she contacted me and showed me flashes of a vision she had been sent, of Te’Roek in flames with Vrór’s creatures circling in the skies. Though I did not want to come, he is still my double and I must do my duty.”

  “But where have you been?” Tiderius asked.

  “North,” she replied bluntly, “helping the farmers prepare for the Ayon invasion. Where did you think I was?”

  A high-pitched scream echoed around the entrance hall, followed by a deeper cry of pain. Angora hastened down a short corridor leading to one of the smaller rooms that adjoined the entrance hall, Tiderius, Emil and Kayte close behind her.

  “Do not come too close,” Angora cried as they ran. “Even my own creatures could kill you if you were caught unawares.”

  On the floor lay two crumpled figures. One of the gate wardens was dead but the second was desperately trying to rise to his feet, a hand clutching a wound in his chest. Across the room crouched a dark shape, ready to strike, and behind it was Vrór, crude staff in hand and a wide toothy smile on his beastly face.

  Angora swung the tip of her staff around in a great circle then brought it down stiffly, the end pointing straight at the crouching creature’s head. An invisible force hurtled into the beast just as it sprang forward to attack the warden. It flew across the hall with a yelp and crashed into the wall. A second later, it disappeared in an explosion of red sparks. Vrór turned in surprise and caught sight of his opponent.

  “Ah, you…” he said, grinning maliciously. “I’m surprised to sss see you here, back with those who made you flee so far and so fast.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Vrór’s smile grew wider still. “Days have grown dull. When there is sss no war, I have to amuse myself with – ” he looked down at his two victims, “ – this.”

  “Leave them alone!”

  “But what could you possibly do to me if I refused?”

  “You are my double. Fight me and only me!”

  “Angora, wait – ”

  “Ah! Shaman!” Vrór exclaimed catching a glimpse of Emil. “My masters have told me so much about you.”

  “I expect they have,” Emil muttered, pushing past Angora to enter the large room. “You, Ayon, have entered Ronnesian territory. As a sworn enemy of this empire, your presence here is a death wish and we have every right to execute you on sight.”

  “Get out!” Angora cried, pushing Emil back. “Leave him to me!”

  Vrór swung his staff in a wide circle and an invisible force blew the shaman off his feet, but Emil spun in midair and landed safely, a spell already flickering around his fingers. Vrór had skirted the walls and was escaping through the doorway back into the entrance hall. He crossed it unnaturally fast and leaped out into the courtyard where the coming of dawn was just lighting the sky. There, he turned and faced them. Angora approached him first, with Tiderius a few yards behind. Both Emil and Kayte arrived a moment later, but hung back a little. Tiderius guessed they understood that he and Angora were better suited to deal with summoned creatures.

  “Killing the ungifted is cowardly!” Angora shouted. “Stay your hand if you wish to live.”

  “Your spells are useless against me!” Vrór hissed angrily.

  “Trust me, both Emil and Kayte can bind your body to their will without having to touch you, Vrór. Within seconds, they could have you writhing in pain! Stand down! What you are doing proves only that you are too weak to face me!”

  Vrór grinned and, with the slightest movement of his staff, sent an invisible force running across the courtyard stones. The ground disappeared from beneath Kayte’s feet. She flew backward and hit one of the marble columns with a dull thud. The dazed sorceress slid down onto the cobbled ground, leaving a smear of blood.

  “Kayte!” Emil cried and hastened to her side.

  “You snake!” Angora shouted, springing angrily into a full summoning.

  “At last!” Vrór gripped his own weapon. The two leikas held their staffs above their heads and braced themselves as bursts of light erupted from the tips. A great eagle burst forth from Angora’s and took shape as its wings unfurled and caught the air. A haladrai – the creature Angora had worked for three years to conjure perfectly. From Vrór’s staff came two black terrors of the wing with the heads of raptors but the bodies of fierce mountain lions. From their beaks came ear-piercing screeches unlike anything Tiderius had heard before.

  He looked up in awe and terror as Angora’s eagle landed beside its mistress, talons digging into the soft grass. Angora climbed quickly upon its back, her staff in one hand, the other clasping a handful of feathers between the beast’s wings.

  “I will draw him away!” she shouted and flattened herself against the eagle’s feathers.

  As she rose from the ground, Tiderius saw Vrór leap onto the back of one of his griffins. Grasping its fur, he gave a loud cry and the beast sprang into the air in pursuit of the haladrai. In a moment, they were lost from sight.

  *

  Angora flew hard and fast over the still slumbering city of Te’Roek. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the two griffins gaining on her, Vrór on the back of the closest one. Soon they were out of sight of the capital, surrounded by the peaks of the Kirofirth Ranges. Angora focused all her strength on keeping hold of her staff, and urged her eagle to fly faster. She clutched its feathers and directed it around the peaks in sharp banks and dives, but still Vrór followed.

  Knowing she could not outrun him, she took in a deep breath and turned her haladrai about. Within seconds, Vrór’s two terrors were upon them, their claws sharp and ominous. They swooped, aiming for her haladrai’s eyes and emitting piercing screeches, almost deafening her. Though the griffins were greatly dwarfed by the eagle, their sharp claws ripped at its feathers and their mean, hooked beaks struck at its face.

  Angora fought to maintain control of her mount and angled it into a sharp turn. The eagle lunged at the griffins, its beak snapping and talons ripping. One beast flew over Angora’s head and she pointed her staff in its direction, shooting an incomplete summoning at its feathers, igniting them.

  Then the other came swooping at her, the one that bore Vrór himself, and before she could take evasive action, a claw hooked into her back, ripping into her skin. She screamed in agony and hunched over, burying her face into the eagle’s feathers. But the pain was like nothing she had ever experienced – it felt as though her very skin was liquid fire. She clutched at her back, desperately clinging to her summoning with her legs. Then Vrór swooped again, and she felt her hold on the eagle’s feathers slip as she waved her staff to ward him off. The eagle dived out of the way of another attack and Angora desperately tightened her fingers before she was thrown from her perch.

  Controlling the eagle with her thoughts alone, she quickly pulled it up out of its dive. Her respite was brief, however, for Vrór and his beasts were quick to return. One, feathers still smoldering, launched itself into the eagle’s side. Angora’s creature twisted and lunged at the burning griffin, tearing off shred
s of its magical hide. Vrór quickly retaliated, bringing his mount around to dive upon the eagle.

  Shrieking, the haladrai plummeted once more, spiraling out of control, its left wing beating almost without effect. Angora lost her grip on its feathers. She fell, frantically calling out to the eagle, but the griffins swooped around its head, slowing it in its attempt to rescue her. Angora tried to summon another creature to halt her fall but she could not focus, and the speed of her descent made performing the movements of the spell impossible.

  The mountains rushed up to meet her. She felt a surge in her staff as her eagle died in an explosion of pain and knew then that she was going to die. Twisting her head, she saw the distant shapes of the griffins chasing after her, wings folded.

  Spirits, do not let them catch me, she begged before her sight began to waver, leaving her in darkness.

  CHAPTER 31

  Angora did not realize she was conscious until she felt a warm breeze on her face. What she had thought to be the darkness of the Hill – the shadowed land of the lingering – was instead a hard bed, a flat pillow beneath her head and a light cover across her body. She felt a sharp pain in her back when she attempted to shift her weight. She did not have the strength to move.

  Then she registered voices. There were two or three men speaking quietly to one side of her bed. Though they were speaking softly, one of them seemed agitated and was having trouble keeping his voice low.

  “Why were you there? Speak the truth,” he said.

  “I must fight my enemies,” the second replied.

  “I ordered you not to set a foot outside the empire!”

  “I didn’t sss walk there, my lord.”

  “You insolent creature, I should have you flayed!”

  “If I might intervene here, sir,” a calmer third voice said, “though he may have gone against your wishes, he has returned with quite a prize.”

  “And it is mine!” the second added angrily.

  “Regardless of your victory, Vrór,” the first said, “you disobeyed both my orders and that of the king! We have been through this a dozen times! If you must have your flesh, take some whore, they will not be missed!”

  “My lord,” the third said, “we should inform the king of our guest’s arrival.”

  “I know that, Lhunannon.”

  Angora felt a rush of fear. She now realized where she was and who the people must be. Vrór, her double, must have brought her back to Delseroy, though how he had managed to catch her from such a height she could not begin to imagine. The fact that she was still alive puzzled her, for she had never thought Vrór capable of mercy and the alternative was too frightening to even dwell upon. She knew the name Lhunannon and identified him as Emil’s double, an enchanter of progressing years who was not to be underestimated. The older a mage was, the more knowledge, power and wisdom they accrued. But who the other man might be, she could only guess. If it was Archis Varren, she was in trouble. If his reputation was to be believed, he preferred to watch his victims die slowly and painfully, like a spider with its next meal caught in its web but that was in no hurry to feed. “Don’t think I will let you off just because you brought us back a pretty trophy,” the man Angora assumed to be Varren was saying. “You disobeyed me and your king, and you will be punished for that. You need to be taught some respect!”

  “Respect?” Vrór cried. “It was I who brought you here and I who gained you audience sss with King Corhillar when you were just a pup! It is you who should respect me!”

  Varren shouted angrily in reply and Angora both heard and smelled the spell he cast. Driven by fear and curiosity, she cautiously opened her eyes a slit. She saw Varren’s towering figure standing at the end of her bed, one arm outstretched, looking menacingly down at a crumpled and smoking form at his feet. The room was dark but Angora could make out stone walls and an open cell door. Pale, natural light was drifting in through a barred window, revealing the aging Lhunannon looking utterly shocked at what he had just witnessed.

  “My lord!” he exclaimed. “Was that necessary?”

  “Yes, and more besides for his insolence. Get up!” Varren moved over to the figure and waved his hand over him, smothering the lingering flames that licked at his clothes. “I said, get up!” he yelled and motioned swiftly with his hand.

  Vrór was lifted up from the floor as if by strong invisible hands. His legs dangled in the air for a moment before they found the floor and took the weight of his body.

  “Never insult me again,” Varren warned, his voice once more quiet but unmistakably sinister.

  “N-no, my lord,” Vrór stammered weakly.

  “Then get out of my sight!”

  Vrór bent to all fours and slunk away like a subservient dog. Angora quickly closed her eyes again, fearing Varren would catch her watching, and tried with all her might to remain calm and still.

  “Lhunannon, I cannot trust that accursed creature. The next time he goes against my word, he will wish his whore of a mother never set eyes on that sea captain. Please inform the king that his presence is required.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Angora heard the sound of footsteps crossing the stone floor and the cell door shutting with a clang. She began to sweat slightly with fear, for she could not imagine a sorrier position to be in. She expected any moment to hear a muttered word and feel pain that would rip a terrifying scream from her lips.

  “You are a very strange contradiction.”

  Angora tried to remain as still as she could, feigning sleep.

  “A Teronian who fled her home to escape her monstrous father, but ended up on the mainland, protecting a queen who acts against your own beliefs. Why do it? Why exchange one set of chains for another twice as strong? There is no need for pretence, I know you can hear me.”

  “I am no longer with them,” Angora said, her voice breaking. She opened her eyes and saw the sorcerer looking down at her curiously. “I freed myself.”

  “And that is why you returned at their call?” he asked mockingly.

  “Aiyla showed me a vision I could not ignore. Vrór is my responsibility. Whenever he fights the ungifted, I must intervene.”

  “Even if he is attacking the people who treated you like a slave?”

  Angora looked away, unable to block out the truth. “Yes, some Ronnesians enslaved me, mistreated me, deceived me and ignored me. But must every one of them pay for the crimes of a few?” She looked up at him again with defiance in her eyes. “He used his power on innocents, people who could not defend themselves. Had he thought to attack only the Circle, I would have done nothing to stop him.”

  “You have been corrupted,” Varren said. “You have allowed yourself to become another’s servant so unconsciously that you believe wholeheartedly that it was you who decided to return to Te’Roek.”

  “If you know so much about me, you should also know that I was forced into their service and I left without their consent!” Angora replied angrily. “What does it matter to you anyway? You will kill me all the same.”

  “Perhaps,” Varren mused. “Though not just yet.”

  Angora tried to move once more but found that she was still powerless.

  “There’s nothing wrong with your body,” Varren said. “It’s a simple paralyzing spell of my own creation. I know you can use magic without your staff. I’m not willing to give you that chance.”

  “Did you send Vrór away so you could finish me off yourself?”

  “No. He was under the impression that he would impress me and gain the opportunity to kill you at his leisure. However, I am not impressed.”

  “Will you let him?”

  “Kill you? No,” Varren said. “The king will decide your fate.”

  “A Mensor king? Then I am doomed. I expect no less than a public death.” She turned her eyes away from the sorcerer and focused on the walls of her cell. She had no idea where she might be. The natural light puzzled her, for she could not imagine any of the cells of the Delseroy castle o
r city barracks being above ground. She heard footsteps down the corridor and looked anxiously toward the door to see whether Lhunannon had brought the king with him. Whatever these men did to her, she told herself, she was determined to hide her fear – and her pain, too, if it came to that.

  “Sorry to disturb you, sir,” Varren said, bowing slightly. “This is the fruit of Vrór’s latest escapade.”

  The man who walked in through the doorway did not sound impressed. “Escapade?”

  “He defied your orders, sire, traveled down to Te’Roek and wreaked havoc on the castle. He brought her back as a plaything.”

  “Where is Vrór now?” the king asked.

  “Skulking around somewhere, licking his wounds. I have already given him a taste of what his punishment might be.”

  “But surely this situation can be dealt with without my supervision, Archis. I know you will be fair with him, and her.”

  “Under normal circumstances, yes, sir,” Varren said, “but this is not just some unfortunate wench he plucked off the street. It’s his double.”

  “What?” the king exclaimed. “The Ronnesian leika?”

  “Yes, though she is no Ronnesian,” Varren said. “She has a curious past, which needs to be taken into consideration when you decide her fate.”

  “What do you mean?” the king asked, moving forward and fixing his eyes on the small bed. “What could possibly be in her past that could – ”

  His voice faltered as he approached her. Angora watched as he moved into the ray of sunlight from the window. He appeared to be strong and had probably been trained to be a fine warrior from a very young age. He had dark hair cut short, vivid green eyes and his mouth had fallen open into an expression of pure disbelief.

  With a pang of fright and fury, she recognized him. “Sam! You – But, no, it cannot be you!”

  “You will address the king with proper respect,” Varren said. “Speak only when he requires an answer – ”

  “You barbarian! You murdering beast! Eshei dehall!” Angora struggled in vain against Varren’s binding spell, but even though the rage that coursed through her would have given a wildcat of the northern mountains of Turgyl reason enough to flee, it did nothing to loosen the magical bonds on her limbs.