The Book of Kaels Bundle (Books 2 - 4): The Wood Kael, The Metal Kael, The Fire Kael

by Wendy Wang

  “Are you all right?” she asked when they’d bent next to the row of plants.

  “I’m fine,” he said, but he sucked a breath through his teeth when he reached to harvest a large clump of berries.

  They gathered several more plants worth of fruit before she finally said, “You think I’m right don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “I saw you, looking at the fence,” she said. “You think she might be there, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Maybe.” He went back to picking berries, but she’d seen the look on his face before, when he was working out a problem. They unloaded their bags two more times when he finally said, “I think I know a way we can check.”

  “How?”

  “You said there was a spy for the queen here, right?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Maybe you could contact him—somehow.”

  Excitement thrummed beneath her skin and she glanced around, spotting the nearest guard 20 yards away. How many of the guards were Wood Kaels? Could they read her thoughts this far away?

  “Maybe,” she whispered, letting her gaze fall on the guard. “We probably shouldn’t talk about it here.”

  Jorgen peered over her shoulder and nodded. “You’re right. We can talk more freely at supper.”

  He gave her a smile for the first time since he was put on the post and it lifted the sorrow and fear just enough to whisper hope into her heart.

  ******

  Neala bent over the last square of canvas laid out on the floor in front of her. She closed her eyes and blew across the painting of the flat granite port stone. When she opened her eyes she inspected the image closely for movement. A tuft of grass rustled in a breeze she could not feel, and her belly fluttered with excitement. Even after making so many of these portals, it never failed to send a thrill through her when she breathed life into it. Three quick raps on the door kept her from spending too much time admiring her work and she turned just as Gordon stuck his head inside.

  “Good afternoon Majesty,” Gordon said giving her a smile. “How are we coming along today?”

  Neala chuckled and narrowed her eyes. “We?”

  Gordon's face went from ruddy to crimson and he gave her a sheepish smile. He cleared his throat. “I meant how are you coming along today?”

  She shook her head and pushed herself to her feet. “I am doing well today. Come inside and take a look.”

  Gordon tipped his head and entered the room. He walked along the rows of identical canvases nodding his head in approval.

  “They should be dry enough to use tomorrow,” she said. “Although I do wish we had more time to test the self-destruct intention.”

  “I'm sure it will work fine,” Gordon said.

  “I know but it's a different intention than the test canvas. It makes me nervous. The last thing I want is to open up an easy passageway for Peter and his men.”

  “Well it self-destructed just fine when you set an intention for it to fall into my hands,” he said sounding a little hurt.

  “It did,” she said and laughed.

  “You could've given me a little warning of course,” he grumbled.

  “Where would the fun have been in that?”

  “Well I'm glad they're done.” He folded his arms across his chest. “The Chief's getting a little cagey.”

  “Well tell the chief to just simmer down. We'll go in good time.” She rolled her eyes.

  “You know he can be court-marshaled for telling me that?” Cai said startling them both.

  A smile stretched Neala's lips wide and she put her hands on her hips. “Well then I'm telling you as the queen to simmer down.”

  The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Cai's lips but he fought it, flattening his mouth into a straight line. He bowed his head to her.

  “As my queen wishes,” he said.

  “What your queen wishes is a kiss,” she said. This time he didn't suppress his grin as he crossed the floor in five long steps. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him, pressing his lips against hers in a dizzying kiss. Her hands fisted in the wool of his coat, and she used it to steady herself when he pulled away. He whispered against her lips, sending a shudder through her belly, “As my queen wishes.”

  Gordon cleared his throat. Heat rushed into Neala’s cheeks and she stepped out of Cai’s arms.

  “So we’ll embark on Thursday?” Gordon asked.

  “Yes Captain,” Cai said. “And I trust you will take good care of our queen.”

  “Yes sir. With my life,” Gordon said. The two men's gazes locked and something unspoken passed between them.

  She couldn't hear either of their thoughts, they were both very well shielded, but the energy reverberated throughout the room, and she felt their words instead of hearing them—Cai's plea - Take care of her, this woman is my life and Gordon's reply As she is mine. They meant different things to her—Cai was her heart and Gordon her conscience but she would be lost without either one of them and she never took it for granted that both of them would die for her.

  “Cai have you heard from Eryn?” Neala asked.

  “Not yet,” Cai said. A shadow crossed his face, and his eyes darkened.

  “I suppose there's no way we can just go in and get her, is there?” Neala asked.

  “No my love,” he said, stroking her cheek. “This is one time we have to wait. But as soon as I hear anything I will do whatever it takes to get her back.”

  “I know you will,” she said, placing her hand over his and pressing his open palm against her cheek. She loved this man — loved him for his nobility and his strength and his determination, but mostly she loved him because of the way he loved her— with absolute abandon.

  “I do wish I could go with you,” he said.

  “I know,” she said. She glanced at Gordon. “I'm in good hands. And it's more important that you see to the treaty with Iberebeth. We need them in this fight.”

  Cai nodded. As soon as Iberebeth’s governor had died the realm had tightened its fold so much it became almost completely unreachable. Using his network of spies Cai had finally managed to contact the highest ranking Warden in Iberebeth. A captain by the name of William Hazel. Hazel had somehow managed to convince the acting governor Lucilla Marse to close the fold completely and cut themselves off from Tamarik and the queen. Cai had thought it best that their first meeting be more military in nature, and Neala had agreed. What neither of them expected was for Hazel to set their first meeting for tomorrow. Cai had proposed postponing so he could accompany them to Nydia, but Neala wouldn't hear of it. And with Gordon's help they had persuaded him they could lead the attack on the camps without him.

  Neala walked to the first of the five rows of paintings and picked up the very first canvas. She touched her fingers to the paint and it tingled with the flow of the elements energy. She pressed harder and her hand slipped in through the painting disappearing, tugging slightly on her arm. She yanked her fist back and shook it out but it continued to twitch for another moment.

  “This one is ready,” she said. She folded the 12 x 12 square of canvas into fourths and then into eighths before stuffing it into the pocket of Cai’s coat.

  “Don’t you need that?” Cai asked.

  “You need it more,” she said craning her neck and meeting his gaze. “I know I'm going to be careful, you just make sure you are too. Don't be afraid to use it if you need it.”

  “As my queen wishes,” he said, and tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear.

  Nineteen

  Sorrel scanned the faces of every guard she encountered walking to the gruel line. She did not see the soldier that had come to her aid. Had he been discovered? She didn't even know his name to ask another guard. She took a seat next to Jorgen at one of the long tables inside the pavilion. They dared not talk about their plan with so many others around but the only way to find a guard was to eat where they could see them. She sipped th
e hot gummy liquid, keeping her eyes focused on the lines of guards moving around the perimeter. Finally, she spotted him talking to another guard in a far corner. She slurped down the last of her gruel and touched Jorgen's arm, giving him a nod and a sideways glance towards the soldier. Jorgen nodded, but grabbed her hand as she rose to her feet.

  “Take care,” he said softly. His eyes pleaded with her, and she could feel the fear rolling off of him. She called up a smile and squeezed his hand.

  “I'll be back,” she said. “I promise.”

  He gave her an uneasy smile and she could feel his eyes on the back of her neck as she walked away. Her heartbeat hard in her throat and her arms and legs thrummed with each step closer to him. He was laughing with the other guard he stood with, sharing some joke or observation. It made her stop in her tracks and glance over her shoulder towards Jorgen.

  “What are you doing over here?” A harsh voice said. Slowly she turned to find him standing in front of her—the soldier.

  “I—I,” she stuttered. “I was looking for you.”

  His sharp blue eyes narrowed and his lean jaw clenched. “Looking for me? Why would you be looking for me?”

  Sorrel glanced around. Some of the other prisoners had taken notice of her and were stealing glimpses and chatting among themselves. Even some of the guards had noticed. Sorrel took a step backwards.

  “I am sorry,” she muttered. “I didn't think.”

  He seized her by the arm, his grip vice-like. He yanked her foreword heading to one of the wide columns supporting the open-air dining hall. Her back slammed into the cold stone and his free hand closed around her neck holding her in place. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her throat, and he leaned in close enough she could feel his hot breath on her face.

  “Are you trying to get us both killed?” he whispered harshly to her.

  She shook her head but the weight of his palm made it impossible for her to speak. He threw a glance sideways and from the corner of her eye she could see two other guards coming to join them.

  “Raemah?” she whispered but it came out as more of a croak.

  He sighed and then said softly, “She's been taken away. You should forget about her.”

  “Where?” She mouthed.

  “Everything all right over here?” a familiar voice said. Sorrel looked past the soldier’s head and found Egan standing behind him.

  “Yes sir,” the soldier said. “I think this little minx likes me.”

  “Really?” Egan sneered and locked his icy colored eyes on hers.

  “Yes sir,” the soldier said. He loosened the grip on her throat and dragged his hand down to one of her breasts. He gave it a good pinch and she yelped. Instinctively she brought her arms up to cover herself and recoiled. He laughed. “I was thinking about taking her out back for a little fun, we'll see how much she likes me then.”

  Egan made a noise in his throat, and the cut of his icy eyes sliced through her. “I think I'd like to get in on that.”

  “Of course,” the soldier said nodding. He wrapped his hand around her arm yanking her forward, dragging her through the crowds of long tables. Heat flooded her face and neck and she stole a glance towards Jorgen. He was on his feet watching, panic lining his face. Egan signaled two other guards with his hands and they seized Jorgen. She dropped her gaze to the floor and her belly wrenched with the thought of what was about to happen.

  The guards marched them out of the pavilion, away from the light and noise, into the milky, gray twilight. The guards’ boots crunched on the gravel and red sandy soil, echoing out towards the darkening fields.

  After several minutes they came to a building she had never seen before. Barrels full of apples and potatoes and crates stacked with heads of cabbage, winter squashes and bundles of hardy greens made long rows, so they could easily be packed onto carts and transported to the other realms under Peter's control. Sorrel’s heart sputtered at the sight of the large floor to ceiling paintings. Were they like the paintings Eryn had shown her? Where would they lead if she and Jorgen could get one of them? Ethavia? Other parts of Nydia? If they could get away, maybe they could find some place safe to hole up until she could find a way to contact the queen.

  The soldier gripped her arm harder, pulling her closer to him.

  “Do you still have the disk,” the soldier whispered.

  Her heart sped up and she feared everyone could hear the quick staccato beat. She coughed into her hand, hoping he would understand.

  “Is it with you?” he whispered so low she strained to hear him. She coughed again.

  “Aw, you’re not coming down with anything are you?” Egan asked sidling up next to her. “I’d hate for some illness to get you before I’m done with you.”

  The soldier squeezed the top of her arm even tighter. If she survived this night, there would be bruises from his fingers.

  Sorrel cleared her throat. “I’m fine.”

  “Good,” Egan said, slapping her hard on the shoulder.

  They led her and Jorgen past the packing area to a darkened corner, although she had no idea why it made a difference. If they were going to beat and rape her, why keep it a secret? Why not make an example of her to the other women in the camp? Or maybe this wasn’t about examples at all. Maybe this was just one more way for Egan to try and conquer her.

  One of the men behind them called Egan and he dropped behind them. The others also walked behind them and Sorrel glanced over her shoulder. Egan had stopped and was talking to one of the soldiers. She gave Jorgen a reassuring smile, but it did nothing to soften the terror on his face.

  She inched her hand underneath her baggy top and found the disk tucked tightly between her waistband and her skin. The cool metal purred against her fingertips. The soldier squeezed her arm impossibly tighter, and she closed her fist around the disk. Its blunt edges pressed into her palm, and she wished this little piece of metal could save them all. The soldier put his hand over hers and turned to face her, stopping her in her tracks. His dark gaze locked onto hers and he slipped his hand underneath her top. The feel of his warm, rough skin on her belly made her stomach wrench, and she thought she might be sick. His fingers wrapped around her hand pressing the disk deeper into her flesh before pulling it from her hand. His eyes glanced sideways to his comrades and he pushed her against the stacks of crates, pinning her with one arm across her throat. The sheer weight of his stare would have been enough to keep her captive.

  Her heart battered her ribcage and the wood dug into her shoulders and hips. Jorgen yelled something unintelligible but she still couldn’t look away, as if his mind held her there more than the weight of him. His other hand slipped down her body, brushing over her breasts. Tears stung her eyes, making the world wavy and she opened her mouth to scream, but all that came out was a strangled cry. He pressed in close, his hot stinking breath on her neck as he forced his hand beneath her top, grabbing her by the wrist.

  The hard metal of the disk dragged across the leather of the harness and loosened. Suddenly he pressed the disk back against her palm. Her breath stuttered in her throat. His lips pressed against her ear.

  “Make a wish,” he said loudly enough for the others to hear. The guardsmen around them laughed, including Egan. He lowered his voice to barely a whisper, “You know what to do?”

  She clenched her fingers around the disk, fully understanding what the disk was—a tool so rare, and so prized it had become mythological.

  He nudged his nose against her ear and uttered a prayer, “Jerugia bless and guide us.”

  Her shoulder shook and tears burned a clean path down her cheeks. She gave a slight nod and closed her eyes, making her wish. The metal expanded in her hands, and when he put a little space between them, they both looked at the metal stars, born of her wish.

  “Make it count,” he said. The soldier stepped away, pivoting his body. He drew his baton on his comrades and the world moved in slow motion. She flung each star, as she had practiced so many times and t
he stars found their intended victims, almost as quickly as the soldier’s blasts of fire. Three guardsmen fell, gripping the gaping slashes in their throats. Egan moved too fast, and the star she intended for him, whizzed past his head. The metal gleamed and curved back towards her and the world around her erupted with fire balls and blue lightning, meant to kill.

  The soldier dragged her behind a crate for cover. There were only three guardsmen still standing, including Egan. She peered around the corner, her hand out, calling to retrieve the stars. The metal obeyed and slid across the dusty floor towards her. She scooped up four of the five stars and from the corner of her eye she spotted Jorgen behind another crate. He’d been struck in the shoulder and was leaning against the wood at a strange angle, holding his limp arm with his good hand. His wild gaze met hers from across the ten feet of space and his dirty, sweaty, pain-filled face pleaded with her not to go through with this. Not to get them all killed.

  Maybe she should have just surrendered. Put her arms in the air and submitted to whatever torture Egan had in store for her. He was going to kill them anyway as soon as he gathered enough guardsmen, wasn’t he? But in her heart, she couldn’t give up—even if it meant failing to become an apprentice, or failing to hit a target with a metal star, or dying tonight in this place.

  “I’m sorry,” she mouthed, praying he would forgive her. Sorrel grabbed the soldier's arm and he stopped mid-shot. She jerked her chin towards Jorgen and the soldier frowned. She sat her jaw, determined not to leave him behind. The soldier sighed and gave a quick nod. He glanced around and pointed to a shadowy corner.

  “Get to that hallway and it will lead you out of the building,” he said.

  “If we can get to the paintings we can get out that way,” she argued.

  “Those paintings lead into the heart of Nydia. Even if they didn’t follow us, the guardsmen there would catch us and we’d be no better off than we are now.”

  She scowled. She’d never been to Nydia, and she didn’t know how populated it was with guardsmen, but surely going into the streets of a city would give them a better chance than hiding behind a crate and being shot at.