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

by Wendy Wang

  She rolled onto her back and for several moments, she stared up at the clear morning sky, clutching her aching hand to her chest, gulping in breath. She finally pushed herself to her feet and made her way towards the back wall. She could easily go over the rubble and out into the countryside. But how would she get home if she did?

  Sorrel had dropped the four spikes in the pit, but she had one more coin. She removed it from the waistband of her pants and quickly transformed it to a star like the one she’d used in the queen’s war room. She gripped the hilt in her good hand and headed back towards the dormitories.

  There were far fewer guards running the camp than wardens, and the guards were too busy fighting off the wardens to notice her creeping along the wall. As she drew closer to the building she saw a flash of red hair. The queen. Sorrel sped up, her chest growing lighter for the first time in weeks. The queen had come. Sorrel slunk up along the side of the building where the queen and Gordon were ushering the prisoners single file through a painting leaning against a wall.

  Sorrel raised her arm and called out, “Your Majesty!”

  An arm went around her neck and yanked her back.

  “I just can't seem to knock you down and keep you there can I?” he said, his hot breath against her ear.

  She struggled against him but he grabbed her injured hand and gave it two tight pumping squeezes. She cried and he was able to wrestle the knife out of her other hand. Wriggling against his chest she loosened her arm enough to elbow him in the mouth, and she started to run towards the queen screaming.

  Twenty

  Neala looked up at the call of her name. Sorrel. The girl darted towards them with her arms waving madly. A smile tugged at the corners of Neala’s mouth and she raised her hand but her wave wilted mid-air. A guard was chasing after Sorrel. When he grabbed Sorrel by her hair and yanked her backwards Neala's heart jumped into her throat and she drew her dagger, ready to fire on him.

  “Gordon you’re with me,” she said. Not waiting for him she headed towards Sorrel. She took aim, ready to fire at him. He pivoted Sorrel in front of him, shielding himself.

  “Egan Crane?” Gordon said coming up beside her. He pointed his baton at him. “I thought he deserted?”

  “He did,” Neala said, recognizing his sharp blue eyes and angular face. His intense stares always made her feel exposed. Chill bumps erupted on her arms. “Egan,” Neala said. “Just let's talk about this, all right?”

  The flash of his blade distracted her for a moment. It was too close to Sorrel's throat.

  “You want her?” he said.

  “Yes I do,” she said. “Just let her go and we can talk about it. I don’t know why you left the wardens, but I’m sure—”

  “There's nothing to talk about,” Egan grinned at her. “I left the wardens of my own free will. Nothing you say or do would convince me to come back.”

  Neala had to work to keep her face neutral. “All right.”

  He chuckled and it sent a chill skittering across her skin. “You really want her? Well , come she’s yours.”

  Egan drew the blade across Sorrel’s throat and the world slowed down and sped up all at the same time. Neala’s breath stuttered in her throat and her heart hammered against her ribs. Sorrel’s eyes rolled back in her head and he pushed the girl away from his body. Neala stepped forward to catch the girl before she hit the ground, but her boots suddenly moved too slowly. She propelled herself beneath the girl’s limp body, taking the brunt of her fall.

  Neala turned Sorrel onto her back as gently and quickly as she could. Her hands moved on their own, wrapping around the bloody slash in the girl’s throat. Blood oozed up and over her fingers. Too much blood. Her thoughts flickered through the foggy haze of shock, trying to figure out what to do next.

  “Gordon,” she muttered. Gordon would know how to heal the girl. She flashed her gaze up long enough to see him shoot Egan in the shoulder. It knocked him to the ground and he lay there for a few seconds. Gordon shifted towards Egan with a binding rope in his hand.

  Egan’s unharmed arm shot up, baton pointed towards the sky. A flash of lightning struck the ground where he lay, and as the bright blue-white light disappeared, so did Egan.

  “Gordon!” Neala screamed. “I need you!”

  Gordon was at her side in four large strides. He knelt down and placed his hands over hers.

  “Sorrel? Can you hear me?” Gordon said.

  Sorrel’s eyelids opened and closed slowly. Blood gurgled in her throat and leaked from the corners of her mouth.

  “Help her,” Neala whispered.

  “We have to stop the bleeding,” he said.

  “I know that,” she snapped. “How?”

  “The way we do everything Majesty. See it and believe it.” Even under the stress of holding the girl’s life in his hands Gordon remained steady. Her rock.

  “Deep breath,” he said. “Now close your eyes. We'll do it together.”

  Neala glanced into his unwavering face and gave him a nod. She closed her eyes. She drew a deep breath and felt the energy from the earth below flow into her body through her legs. Their hands warmed around the girl’s neck. Neala could see it in her head—the blood vessels stitching together. The flow of blood stopping. The gash in the girl’s throat closing. Neala blew out her breath and opened her eyes.

  Sorrel's eyelids fluttered at first then slowly opened.

  Neala moved her hands away and revealed a clean pink scar, similar to the ones on her wrists. She blinked back tears and smiled.

  “Sorrel?”

  Sorrel opened her mouth and croaked, “Raemah.”

  “It’s ok,” Neala said. “You’re ok now. Don’t try to talk.”

  Sorrel swallowed hard and touched her neck. She couldn’t raise her voice above a throaty whisper. “Something’s wrong.”

  Neala's gut wrenched and she glared up at Gordon searching his face for answers.

  “We’ll have a proper healer look at her when we get her back to the palace,” he said quietly.

  Tears leaked down the side of Sorrel’s face, leaving a clean streak.

  “It’s all right,” Neala said. “We’ll find your friends.” She looked to Gordon. “We need to find the boy and his sister. Get them to safety.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Gordon said and started to rise.

  Sorrel clutched at Neala’s forearm, her large brown eyes wavy behind the water gathering in them. Her lips turned downward and she shook her head side to side. “Jorgen’s dead. Raemah—”

  Neala’s heart twisted. “Oh Sorrel. I am so sorry.”

  The girl put her hands over her face and turned on her side and wept. Neala stroked her hair, wishing she could do more to comfort her. After she was cried out, Neala helped Sorrel to her feet.

  Neala leaned in close to Gordon, “I want Egan Crane.” she said, gritting her teeth. “He must pay.”

  Gordon pressed his lips together until they disappeared into his beard. His eyes stared outward, focusing on something in the distance. Finally he bowed his head, “As you wish, Majesty.”

  Sorrel whispered. “I saw a place in a vision. A prison. Raemah is there. We have to find it.”

  “Please don't try to talk. Not until we get you to a healer all right? I don't want to damage your throat any more than I already have,” Neala said. A pang of guilt filled her heart.

  “Not your fault,” Sorrel whispered.

  Neala nodded and forced a smile. She guided Sorrel towards the line to the painting.

  “I still have some work to do here,” Neala said. “But this warden will take you to the infirmary and you’ll be as right as sunshine in no time.”

  Panic filled the lines of Sorrel’s face, and she shook her head.

  “What?”

  “Jorgen’s body,” Sorrel squeaked. “I don’t want to leave it. Please?”

  Neala sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Please.” Sorrel begged in a froggy voice.

  “All right,” Neala
said, motioning for Gordon. “Can you point us to his body?”

  “I can show you,” she whispered.

  “You’ve lost so much blood. I don’t think that’s wise.”

  “I’m all right,” Sorrel whispered and grabbed Neala’s hand.

  “Gordon,” Neala said. “Sorrel’s going to show me where to find—” She stopped and took a breath. “Where to find the boy’s body. We’ll need to retrieve it.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Gordon said. “You all go ahead and I’ll gather a few a men and we’ll catch up with you.”

  Neala gave him a weak smile, grateful that he didn’t even blink at her request.

  Sorrel pulled her forward, leading her away from the crowd. The girl stopped when they came across the bloody knife Egan had used to cut her throat. Sorrel wiped it on her gray pants, wrapped her hand tightly around its hilt and kept moving.

  The acres of crops burned, and smoke billowed across the fields darkening the skies and creating a haze. The wardens had either killed or captured most of the guardsmen.

  Neala followed Sorrel along the fence line towards the back of the vast property. The wall had collapsed into rubble in places. How many guardsmen had escaped?

  As they drew closer a line of black rectangles appeared in the dirt. Each was covered with a cell door made of iron. Neala did a quick count in her head. A dozen holes. Why had they dug them and put cell doors over them? It didn’t make sense until Sorrel stopped at the edge of the first one and pointed down into the hole.

  The sight of the thin, nearly dead people locked inside the cells, made Neala’s stomach twist.

  “Jerugia’s crown,” she muttered. “Are they all like this?”

  Sorrel nodded and continued forward. Neala paused at each open cell. Counting bodies. Sickened by such cruelty.

  “Here,” Sorrel squeaked pointing inside the last hole.

  Neala touched her dagger to the iron door willing it to lift open. She could see the boy lying flat on the ground in the middle of the cell, half covered in dirt. There was no denying he was dead. She knew the pallid skin and stillness all too well.

  Neala rubbed her hand over her mouth to chase away the bile gathering at the back of her throat. “All right. We know where he is now. I promise you, we will bring him home and give him a proper burial.”

  “I’ll wait,” Sorrel said kneeling down next to the hole.

  Neala scanned the field. Where were Gordon and his men? Maybe it was just the chaos and destruction around them but the hair on the back of her neck prickled and her fingers twitched.

  Thunder rumbled overhead and a blast of lightning cut through the haze. Egan Crane and a young girl appeared two meters in front of them beside the hollowed earth.

  “Raemah,” Sorrel squeaked and moved towards them. Neala grabbed Sorrel by the back of her shirt to keep her from walking too close to the edge of the pit.

  The child was covered in filth and her wide cinder color eyes stared vacantly into the distance, almost as if she had no idea where she was.

  Neala raised her dagger and pulled Sorrel behind her.

  “I see you came back to surrender,” Neala said. “And you brought the girl. That saves me so much time having to hunt you down and find her. Thank you.”

  Egan laughed. “Actually, I came back for you.”

  “Me? How interesting,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Why is that?”

  “Well,” Egan smiled but it never touched his eyes. “That's easy. The emperor wants you.”

  Of course. All things went back to Peter.

  “I can assure you,” Neala said. “He likes the game too much. It won't curry you any favor to show up with me in tow. Peter likes things that are hard won. Trust me.”

  “I'll take my chances,” Egan said. “So here's the deal. I'll give you the girl and you come along with me quietly.”

  “Sorry,” Neala said, aiming her dagger at his heart. “No deal.”

  He raised his baton in defense and positioned the child in front of him.

  Neala scoffed. “Coward. You will never get away with this. I will make sure of it.”

  A sneer stretched his lips and his hand slid from the girl's shoulder to her throat.

  A high-pitched keening came from behind her and she could feel Sorrel bouncing from foot to foot. Neala aimed at his head and in one movement he lifted the girl up by her throat. The dazed girl's arms and legs dangled freely and she didn't fight him. Her head lolled to one side and a little gurgle escaped her lips. What had they done to this child?

  “I wonder how hard I'll have to squeeze to snap her neck?” he said.

  “We will never know,” Neala said. Sorrel’s hand touched her shoulder and she shrugged it off.

  “Put your weapon down your Majesty,” he said his voice full of contempt. “I'll let the child live and you’ll go with me. It's that simple.”

  “Oh, it’s never simple Egan,” she said. He evidently knew more about Peter's operation. He could be a valuable asset even though she hated thinking like that. “Why don't you put down the child and I won't kill you. How does that sound?”

  “It's one of the things I’ve always liked about you, Majesty. You were never one for small talk,” he said.

  “Nope. I like things straightforward, and I don't like to waste time. And you Egan are wasting my time.” She inched forward. “Let Raemah go.”

  “I’m sorry.” He shrugged. “I can’t do that.”

  “Sorry is definitely one way to describe you.” She saw the moves clearly in her head—a bolt of red fire splitting just before striking both of his hands, knocking his baton away, and causing him to drop the girl. It wasn’t so far down and as long as she went in feet first, Neala could heal any injury she might incur. Without his baton, he would have no means of escape and she’d fought much bigger men than him. Egan barely stood an inch over her and had a slim build. Getting his baton away would be key, but he had his arm tucked close to the child's torso. She would have to be exact so as not to hit the girl.

  “So what happened, Egan? What made you turn away from the wardens?” Neala said, her feet moved in tiny increments, edging closer.

  “You can just stop now.” He tightened his grip on the girl’s throat. The child took a sharp intake of breath through her nose, and she finally struggled against him, clawing at his leather armguards. He gritted his teeth, clearly tired of talking. “I will kill her if you don’t come with me.”

  “No. You won’t,” she said softly.

  “You don’t believe I’ll kill her? Why don’t you ask your friend there about what I’m capable of.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know. Clearly I wasn’t paying attention to your abilities and Peter was. That puts all of this on me. I will do a better job going forward. Now, why don’t you let Raemah go, and you and I can discuss the value of your abilities.”

  Like most that go through warden training, Egan was very good at shielding his true thoughts, but his lip twitched and his knuckles whitened, gripping his baton.

  Neala lowered her dagger and extended her free hand out to him. “Come on Egan. Anything you’ve done can be forgiven. Please? Let’s talk.”

  Egan shifted his eyes, looking past her. He shook his head. “No. It’s too late for that.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. Just let her go.” Neala slid her boots through the sand, creeping closer. A whimper came from behind her as she moved out of Sorrel’s reach.

  Egan’s face hardened and he chuckled. He jabbed his baton against Raemah’s ribs and fired before dropping her into the pit.

  “No!” Neala shouted, raising her dagger, calling forth the fire from within her. A red fiery bolt erupted from the tip of her blade but it was not the only fire headed his way. Fireballs trailed past her. She threw a glance over her shoulder. Gordon and four of his wardens were behind them. Neala grabbed hold of Sorrel and forced her to the ground.

  “Stay down,” she ordered the girl. The fire bolt hit the ground, causing a landslid
e of dirt to fall into the pit and spraying dirt, adding to the haze. Fireballs and bolts of red fiery energy sailed overhead.

  Pain screamed across Neala’s scalp. Her head jerked back and her body followed. She reached for the source of the agony and her hand locked onto a man’s wrist. Blindly, she shot over her shoulder at him. He slowed for a second but did not stop. A sharp object jabbed into her shoulder and a burning spasm traveled down her arm. Her twitching hand opened and she dropped her dagger. She clawed at his hands, but could not get past the leather of his armguards. He lifted her to her feet and let go of her ponytail just long enough to wrap his arm around her waist. Neala writhed, surprised at the strength of his vise-like grip. He raised his baton towards the sky and her heart clogged her throat. The familiar metallic sting of the smell of lightning filled her senses. This couldn’t be happening. How could she have been so stupid?

  Several small gray objects sped past Neala’s head. The gray blur slashed at the bolt of lightning descending from the sky, deflecting and capturing the pure white light. The crackling energy spun above their heads, circling just out of his reach, cutting off his escape. Neala searched for the source.

  Sorrel held the queen’s dagger with both hands. Several more gray blurs joined the lightning, drawing it down like a cage around them. The light hummed, and Neala caught a glimpse of the spinning objects—tiny metal stars.

  Egan’s grip loosened for a split second and Neala planted her elbow into his ribs and butted her head backwards. A sickening crunch vibrated in the space between them and he screamed. Blood gushed over his lips and chin and he staggered. Neala grabbed his hand giving his thumb a twist away from his body and he dropped his baton. She forced him to his knees.

  The white light disappeared but the stars held steady in a circle around them. They buzzed, their sharp points all aiming at Egan, ready to shred him on command.

  “Please move away from him,” Sorrel said, her voice nothing more than a raspy whisper.

  “I can’t do that Sorrel. I know he’s hurt you, but I can’t let you kill him,” Neala said.