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

by Wendy Wang

  “I don’t need to be rescued, Mama,” Cilla snapped.

  “Good,” her mother replied. “It’s about time.” Her mother walked away leaving Cilla to have to chew on her response. She couldn’t risk drawing any more attention to herself.

  ******

  “And you’re sure they'll do exactly what we want them to do?” Egan asked.

  “Of course,” D'Raq said. He glanced behind him. Toby and his ten men and the fifteen wardens followed them into the Palace. “We just need to find your wife. Then I'll have the Wardens surrender to you and the Queen too if you like. Nice and neat.”

  “I thought you wanted the Queen dead,” Egan said.

  “The Queen I wanted dead, is.” D'Raq said. “What I really want gone is the monarchy. It holds us back by binding us to ancient rites that keep us from evolving.”

  Egan chuckled. “So you wouldn’t complain if she died.”

  A sly grin played at the corners of D’Raq’s mouth. “I would not.”

  They crossed the Great Hall, their boots echoing off the fine marble walls.

  “So you think they'll be in the family's quarters?” D'Raq asked.

  “I'm not sure,” Egan said. “Can you hear them?”

  D'Raq stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring out. Deep wrinkles carved into his brow. “No.” He blew out his breath. “I don’t hear them.”

  “You know the Queen can travel by using paintings she’s altered,” Egan said.

  “Hmmm...interesting. The breath of life,” D'Raq muttered.

  “What is that? The breath of life?” Hargett asked. He kept glancing over his shoulder as if he was afraid the men following them might suddenly wake up and take control of their bodies.

  “It is a painting technique my grandmother perfected. She used it to travel between realms and was quite renowned for it. The masters of her day studied the technique even wrote about it. Until the queen found out.”

  “What happened when she found out?” Egan asked.

  “Every reference to it was removed from the books. And it became illegal to practice.”

  “Why?” Hargett asked.

  “I suppose she thought people were trying to escape her rule. And they were.” D’Raq shrugged. “My grandmother helped dozens of Kaels pass into Nescien without an Earth Kael.”

  “Why would anyone want to go to Nescien?” Egan asked.

  “You would need to ask one of those who went.”

  “Sir,” Hargett said. “Look.” He pointed to a large plant that seemed to be growing in the center of the landing at the top of the grand staircase. They ascended the steps and found a vining plant with reddish green heart-shaped leaves.

  “I believed your woman is trying to tell you something.”

  “Cilla,” Egan muttered.

  D’Raq's lips twisted into a smirk. “I take it they are not in the Queen's living quarters after all.”

  “It would appear that way,” Egan said. He picked up the first leaf and pressed its smooth surface against his palm. His wife would deliver the Queen to him without so much as a fireball going off.

  They followed the vine trailing through the hallways until it stopped on the third floor in front of the north tower. The vine had continued up the side of the tower, but had managed to spread across the wall, forming a large rectangle just below four gargoyles on perches.

  “The door,” D’Raq said softly and chuckled. They drew closer and Egan outstretched his baton.

  “Wait.” D’Raq pressed his hand against Egan’s forearm. He pointed to the gargoyles who had all turned their eyes on him. “Watch.”

  Egan’s heart hammered against his ribs. “They just moved didn't they?”

  “Yes,” D’Raq whispered.

  Egan dropped his arm and stepped back. “Well, you're the one with all five. Do something.”

  “Having all five, doesn’t mean I can automatically tame someone else's creation. If they were made of wood, I wouldn’t hesitate—”

  “Well that’s just great. Can you at least tell us what they’re thinking?”

  “They're not alive Crane. They’re merely the manifestation of very talented Earth Kael.” D’Raq moved to the gargoyle on the far left and held his hand in front of its mouth. “There is heat coming off of this one. It may breathe fire.”

  “Well that is not frightening at all,” Hargett said. “I've fought a lot of things but never a fire-breathing hunk of stone.”

  D’Raq moved on to the next two. “These have wings and sharp talons. And this one,” he said tipping his head to the gargoyle on the far right, “holds a triple bladed spear in its claws.” He took a deep breath and pressed his hand against his chest. It was the only time Egan had seen the man come close to faltering.

  “Let’s use one of the wardens to see how much damage they can inflict,” Egan said.

  “Agreed,” D’Raq said. He turned and directed one of the wardens, a young man that barely looked eighteen, to move into position. Egan, Hargett and D’Raq took cover around the corner. The warden stood in front of the wall motionless for several minutes, even after D’Raq gave his order to fire a blast at the wall.

  “What’s wrong?” Egan asked. “Why isn’t he doing as you command.”

  “Because he’s terrified,” D’Raq said softly. “I may have him under control, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t fighting me. I can only fully control someone whose mind is not tied up with strong emotions. Fear shuts down the mind on many levels.”

  “Well? Can you do it or can’t you?” Egan snapped, losing all patience.

  “Indulge me, my friend.”

  Egan rolled his eyes. The lines on D’Raq’s forehead deepened with concentration. D’Raq held out a flattened palm and his index finger curled down. Every muscle in the back of his hand flexed. Finally the warden’s arm began to rise and he fired a single bolt of white energy at the wall.

  A high-pitched keening reverberated throughout the chamber and all four gargoyles moved into action. Two of them flapped their stone wings as if they weighed nothing and rose above the man. The fire-breathing gargoyle hopped on to one of the empty perches and sprayed a steady stream of fire into the warden’s face. He screamed, dropping his baton, he turned to run, flames streaming from his clothes like wings. The flying gargoyles, followed the young man, landing on his back, digging their talons deep into his shoulders. His body arched and his screams grew louder until one of the gargoyles put its claw into the back of his neck. The young warden stopped moving and cried no more.

  Egan buried his nose in the crook of his elbow. The sickly-sweet stench of flesh burning made his stomach turn. The gargoyles crawled off the warden’s body and scurried back to their posts.

  “Well, now we know what they do.” Hargett took a seat with his back against the wall. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling.

  Egan watched the stone gargoyles get comfortable on their perches. The vine covering the door didn't seem to garner their attention. Even from this distance he could see tendrils had dug into the mortar.

  “D'Raq, if you can't control the gargoyles what about the vine that Cilla left for us. It's living.”

  “It is,” D'Raq said, “Earth is not my strongest affinity but I may be able to control it. What do you have in mind?”

  “The gargoyles don't seem to be paying much attention to the vine even though it's on the wall,” Egan said. D'Raq tilted his head and looked around the corner.

  “Indeed,” D'Raq said under his breath.

  “You can’t hear them right now. I'm assuming something about the tower wall prevents it.” Egan scratched his stubble to chin.

  “Yes,” D'Raq said. “I think you're correct.

  “Your affinity for earth may not be very strong but my wife’s is. Earth is her only affinity and aside from her mother I've never seen anyone who could command plants the way she can. If we could get a message to her she might be able to use the vine to bring down the
door.”

  Hargett shifted his stare from the ceiling to Egan's face. He blinked his hazel eyes and furrowed his brow. Egan could almost see the wheels of his brain thinking.

  “D'Raq what do you think it would take for you to communicate with her?” Hargett asked.

  “A hole in the wall,” D’Raq said, then mumbled, “Maybe.” He squinted his eyes and scanned the wall for any sort of breach. “I see the plant has penetrated some of the mortar but that's not quite enough.”

  “All right,” Hargett said scrambling to his knees taking a look at the wall. “What we need is for those gargoyles to work for us. The one with the little fork. If we could get him to penetrate the mortar it might be enough to break it.”

  “I told you I can't control them—” D'Raq started.

  “We don't need to control them. We just need to control what they hit with their weapons. Their fire, talons, and that three pointed spear,” Hargett said.

  “I think I see where you're going with this. But we’ll have to sacrifice another man.”

  “Let’s do it,” Egan said.

  D'Raq smirked and gestured for one of the warden’s standing nearby to come forward.

  “This is what I want you to tell him to do,” Hargett began.

  ******

  Egan watched as the warden shuffled across the floor towards the wall. This one seemed to have less fight in him, walking right up to the wall and digging his fingers into the vine. He started to pull the vine away from the wall. The gargoyles all turned their gaze onto him. The one on the far left whipped his tail and gripped the handle of his spear. Steam puffed out from the lips of the fire-breathing gargoyle and the others scraped their talons against their perch. Is that how they kept them sharp? Egan wondered. The warden pulled a knife from his pocket and flipped open the blade. He dug the tip of it into the mortar and even managed to scrape some of it out before they pounced on him and shredded his body with their talons. They didn’t let his screams go on for very long and Egan was glad. He didn’t know the boy but like all of the wardens he’d seen since returning to Tamarik they were all too young and made him think of his own sons. Egan and Hargett both turned their gaze on D'Raq.

  “Anything?” Hargett asked.

  D'Raq closed his eyes and made a noise deep in his throat. Egan wasn’t quite sure if it was pain or not. He opened his mouth and closed it as if he had something to say and changed his mind. Finally his shoulders slumped a little and he opened his eyes and shook his head. “I hear echoes of thoughts but they’re too far away. They don’t seem to be hearing me.

  “Can you tell how many there are?” Egan asked.

  “No,” D'Raq said. “Maybe once the mortar is gone —”

  “We’re not gonna get past those little beasts. Not easily anyway,” Hargett said. “Even if D’Raq can get a message to your wife.”

  “He’s right,” D'Raq said. “Even if she gets the door open how are we going to pass through without being attacked? And until I get a feel for who is with the queen and what affinities they have, we’re blind men fumbling around in the dark.”

  “If we could distract them we could get past them,” Egan said. He scowled and added, “Maybe.”

  “What about Toby’s weapons? Could we use them? How powerful are they?” D'Raq said.

  “The fire cannon is powerful. But this wall is fortified by unknown intentions. We could end up blowing ourselves up,” Egan said.

  All three of them grew quiet for a moment, contemplating their next move. Hargett scratched his head and sighed. “Boss, I think I have an idea.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Egan said.

  Hargett leaned in close. “This is what we should do.”

  Twenty-Seven

  “Y’Ana?” Cilla asked. “Are you all right?” The girl stared into space as if she was seeing another time and place. Sorrel got the same look on her face when she had a vision. “Y’Ana?”

  The girl’s eyes blinked slowly, deliberately before she turned her head and shifted her gaze to Cilla.

  “Y'Ana,” Cilla said, softly touching the girl’s arm. “Everything all right?”

  Y'Ana nodded her head but rose to her feet, walking towards the exit. Cilla sighed. She was such a strange little girl. The child stopped in front of the heavy metal door and pressed her hand to it.

  Cilla glanced towards the queen. She was still deep in a discussion with Gordon and Sorrel. Her mother was in the kitchen doing what, calmed her the most—cooking. Danny had fallen asleep and was snuggled under a blanket on the couch and Tom lay curled up in one of the cushy chairs, sleeping, one of his tin men held tightly in his hand. Cilla rose from her seat, crossed the room and knelt down next to the girl.

  “What is it?” Cilla asked.

  “Uncle,” Y'Ana whispered.

  “Your uncle, Cai?” Cilla whispered. A shard of panic stabbed her heart. If Cai was here, how would Egan get to them? The child's head shook slowly back and forth. “I don't understand,” Cilla said. Y'Ana reached for her hand and Cilla let her take it.

  Cilla? Cilla can you hear me? The whisper in her head was a man’s voice and it wasn’t a voice she knew. Her breath caught in her throat and she almost yanked her hand away.

  “How are you doing that Y'Ana?” Cilla said in a low serious tone.

  “I'm not doing anything,” Y'Ana said softly. “Uncle.”

  She didn't know what the girl was talking about. As far as Cilla new the only uncle she had was Cai Declan.

  The little girl pressed her hand against Cilla's cheek and lights flashed across her vision. Images filled her head, hazy at first, then finally clearing. A beautiful woodland cottage stood in the distance. Smoke drifted from the chimneys and chickens pecked the soil under one of the windows. Inside Cilla could hear humming. She opened the wooden door and let herself in. The girl with long blond hair shimmered like silver hummed a lullaby. Cilla walked up behind her expecting her to turn around but she didn't, instead she leaned over a cradle. Inside was a toddler with white blond hair like her mother's and sleepy blue eyes. The door opened behind them and Cilla jumped.

  “Harbee,” the man said. He was as striking as he was intimidating. His long dark curly hair hung to his shoulders and his well-trimmed beard accentuated the sharp angles of his face and jaw. Even in her part of the realms, Cilla had heard of Harbee Fein and her ill-fated culling. She stood back and watched the scene unfold.

  “I'm not going with you Sinjon,” Harbee said.

  “They are coming for you,” Sinjon said. “I can't let this happen. For your sake and for the baby’s.”

  “Peter will take care of everything.” Harbee didn’t look at him.

  “Peter!” Sinjon growled, throwing his hands into the air. “Peter is the reason you’re in this mess. Please let me take you away from here? Let me take you someplace safe.”

  “There is no safe place, Sinjon.” Harbee glanced at him over her shoulder. “At least not here in Ethavia. I don’t know if a place like that even exists.”

  Sinjon crossed the room and towered over her but his voice was soft and gentle as he spoke. “Listen to me little sister. We’ll find a safe place for you and Y'Ana. Maybe another realm.”

  “No Sinjon,” Harbee said. “There is no safe place. I’ll take my chances here. I know Peter will come for me.”

  Sinjon knelt down next to her. He touched his hand to her back. “I love you Harbee but I can’t watch this happen. Let me at least take Y'Ana away. Please?”

  Harbee shook her head. “I’m sorry brother but no.” She smiled sweetly. “But I love you for wanting to protect us.”

  Pain marred his beautiful featured and he took her hand, pressing her palm to his lips. His voice shook when he spoke, “I will not watch them butcher you. I can’t.”

  “Go then,” Harbee said. She didn’t sound angry or hurt. “We’ll be fine. I promise.”

  Sinjon rose to his feet and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  Harbee winced at the soun
d and Y’Ana cried out. Harbee took the toddler in her arms and held her close. There was no sign of the madness or desperation the queen had told them about. The rumors were wrong. Harbee hadn’t been culled because she had command of all five. Had she really been culled for having a child with Peter Declan? Cilla’s stomach twisted.

  “It’s all right Y'Ana,” Harbee said her voice steady and calm. In the distance the heavy sound of horses approaching sent a chill through Cilla. She wanted to scream for Harbee to run, to hide, to save herself, but she couldn’t. This was only a shadow in a little girl’s memory.

  Harbee rocked Y'Ana back and forth. “It’s all right baby.” Harbee’s voice shook. “We’re going to be all right.”

  A few minutes later soldiers — wardens — kicked in the door and seized Harbee. Y'Ana screamed and cried out for her mother.

  “It’s all right Y'Ana,” Harbee called. “It’s all right we’re going to be all right.”

  Cilla blinked and the images disappeared. Tears stung her cheeks and her gaze settled on Y'Ana.

  “Uncle Sinjon,” Y’Ana said again.

  “Your uncle is Sinjon D’Raq?” His notoriety for his part in killing the queen’s father had made every paper in every realm. He was powerful and ruthless and bent on vengeance for how his sister was treated. If she remembered correctly, the prosecution had not been able to prove he did the actual killing, but he was convicted on conspiracy and the tribunal had been merciful and sentenced him to life in prison, instead of death.

  Y’Ana nodded her head.

  Cilla covered her mouth. Was Egan somehow involved with Sinjon D’Raq? Was that how he was going to escape the prison and come get them?

  Cilla? Can you hear me?

  “Do you hear your uncle calling your name too?” Cilla whispered.

  Y’Ana steadied her pale blue eyes on Cilla and nodded her head slowly.

  “How do we talk to him?” Cilla asked.

  “With our minds,” Y’Ana whispered.

  Icy dread coiled in her belly and she nodded her head. She took a deep breath and thought.