Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Innes

  Whisper was quicker however, and with a sharp “Vortu!” he fired shadowy spikes from his hands towards Celia. Noises from the hallway were getting louder. Noting that Celia had not completed her own spell yet, Hoyle stepped in front of Celia, trusting that his luck would hold. The shadow spikes hit him, and instantly his firebird earring flared white hot, and pain shot through his body, wracking his muscles with tightening spasms. He dropped to his knees as Celia finished her spell.

  A bright light burst in front of the robed warlock, causing him to flinch back and shout with pain and surprise. Hoyle dropped to his side on the floor, his body wracked with pain. He could not make his muscles respond. Apparently, he had found the limits of his earring's magical resistance. How bad would this have been if I wasn’t partially resistant to magic?

  “Cravash!” Celia intoned again, this time the marbles hit her target, and Whisper screamed with pain. Intoning under his breath, Whisper completed another spell, and stepped backwards into the shadows, vanishing in the swirling darkness.

  Celia dropped to her knees beside Hoyle, who still could not unlock his muscles, even to speak. “Let me help you.”

  Hoyle watched from the corner of his eye as Celia stood suddenly and looked out into the hallway. Loud noises began coming from the hallway, and suddenly Salrissa appeared at the door. “Time to go!” she stated, looking quickly at Hoyle. Turning to look over her shoulder she cursed quietly, understanding dawning on her face. Looking at him once more, she declared “I will come for you.”

  Salrissa grabbed Celia, pushed her towards the shadowy corner opposite the one Whisper disappeared into, flipped up her black cloak over the two of them and vanished into the swirling shadows.

  More noises came from the hallway, which included swearing and cursing that Hoyle recognized as coming from Brows, which suddenly cut off. He could hear the sound of something scraping on the floor, and suddenly a scaazi Scenter was coming through the door, the two robed Rak’soraa closely behind. The deformed humanoid circled the room, sampling the air with its six gills, including sniffing along his leg and arm. If his muscles weren’t still frozen, Hoyle would have found it hard not to scream.

  Two City Guardsmen entered the room. One came over to Hoyle, kneeled down and with a sneer said “Good night,” and then hit him across the jaw with his mailed fist. That was the last he remembered for a long time.

  Chapter 6

  “You just left him to that creature!” Celia tried to scream, but it barely came out as a croak.

  “Quiet!” Salrissa whispered at her, looking down the alley towards the tower they had just been in. Celia could barely move. Her muscles felt like she had been turned inside out and back again. She was trying to piece the last few events together in her mind while her body recovered from whatever Salrissa had done to her.

  She remembered the shadowy arrows striking Hoyle as he stepped in front of her just before her flare spell blinded and disoriented her opponent. When Hoyle dropped, her anger flared, and she had cast her magical orb spell to wound the robed man. The warlock vanished through the use of some spell she was unaware of, and with the immediate danger gone, she dropped to her knees to help Hoyle.

  Immediately however, she felt the stirrings of fear, deep irrational fear. She stood up and looked into the hall, watching the final blows between Salrissa and the beefy guard before they backed away from each other and turned to face the stairs. Celia could now hear what sounded like claws scraping on wood coming up the stairs. Soon a scaazi reached the hallway landing, followed immediately by the two black-robed and cloaked Rak’soraa with glowing eyes.

  The man Hoyle had named Brows cursed profusely and charged the scaazi, but one of the Rak’soraa raised one hand and pointed a metal rod at him. A flash of light leapt from the end of the rod into Brows' chest dropping him to the ground unconscious in mid stride. Celia could hear the clanking of more guards coming up the stairs behind the trio as Salrissa turned and dashed her way.

  Celia couldn’t move from the fear that was overcoming her. It seemed to be coming in waves off the grey-skinned aberration moving towards them down the hall, its knuckles dragging on the carpeted floor. The only other thing Celia could remember was Salrissa grabbing her in a rough embrace, darkness... then excruciating pain.

  She managed to push herself up to her knees, and then to her feet by grabbing a drainpipe on the side of the building. Slowly moving up beside Salrissa at the end of an alley, ironically the same alley that she confronted Hoyle in earlier this evening, she watched as a huge number of City Guardsmen swarmed around the Goralonian Merchants’ Guild. They were bringing out prisoners, most of them stunned, and throwing them into two caged wagons like so much cordwood. Those that weren’t stunned were protesting loudly or thrashing, but they were beaten until they quieted.

  They watched as the Fear Squad left the building, the scaazi ahead of the two Rak’soraa. Four soldiers followed them out, two each carrying an unconscious Brows and Hoyle. They threw each of them into the separate wagons, on top of the pile. One of the soldiers locked the wagons, and the soldiers began to move out, leaving several behind to secure the building.

  “What do we do now?” wondered Celia.

  “We retreat,” answered Salrissa without emotion. Celia noticed that the other woman was holding her hand to a bleeding slash along her ribs. Only because Salrissa hadn’t said anything did Celia hold her tongue.

  ---o---

  The bell at the Temple of Saveesha, the Mother, rang twice as the two women worked their way back to the Red Rooster Inn through the dark city. They seemed to be following the same path that Celia and Hoyle had followed earlier that evening, though Celia was having significantly more trouble keeping up with Salrissa, even with the other woman wounded. She strode quickly down the streets that Celia was having trouble seeing, and though her own legs were at least as long as Salrissa's, she kept stumbling over the cobbles.

  “Is it true?” Celia asked.

  Salrissa didn’t answer for a time, but just as Celia was about to ask her question again, Salrissa responded, “Is what true?”

  “Are you a Sister?”

  A longer pause. “Was.”

  “I thought they were a myth to keep the Empire’s enemies in line and to scare small children?” Celia stumbled again, and went down to one knee with a grunt of pain. She realized how physically drained she was as she stood and ran to catch up with Salrissa, who had not slowed.

  “No. If only that were true...” Salrissa replied bitterly.

  Celia was quiet as she absorbed Salrissa’s tone and her obvious reluctance to continue with any details, so she changed topics. “What are we going to do about Hoyle?”

  “I am going to rescue him; you are going back to wherever it is you came from,” came the emotionless reply.

  “But you will need my help. There were more than thirty Guardsmen back there...”

  “No, I will not,” Salrissa interrupted.

  “...and you’re wounded,” Celia finished anyway.

  Celia was frustrated beyond measure. They had lost her quafa'shilaar, whatever gold was owed to Hoyle, and now Hoyle himself. Hoyle’s supposed friend, or possibly his lover, who was a former Sister of Kass, the Empire’s mythical secret sect of assassins, was going to rescue him mysteriously without her help. She was going to lose the only trail to the quafa'shilaar that she had. She grabbed Salrissa’s arm, quietly casting a spell. “You will need my help!” she insisted.

  Salrissa grabbed her wrist with her unoccupied hand and broke her hold easily. She twisted Celia’s arm violently as she stopped and spun her against the side of a building. “No. I won’t.” She let Celia go. “Go home.” And with that, Salrissa turned and started down the street, vanishing into the shadows.

  Rubbing her sore shoulder, Celia let her go. She did not have to follow her now. With the tracking spell she cast on the arm piece of Salrissa’s armor, she would be able to locate her wherever she went. At least for a numbers of days
until it wore off. However, with everything that had happened since this morning, she realized how weary she was. Looking up and realizing that she was alone in the dark streets of this unfamiliar city, she started moving. Based on the location of the Emperor’s Sky Citadel floating above the city, and since she knew that it was always centered over Palace Square, she turned down the next street, beginning the process of finding her way back to the embassy.

  Tripping over another slick cobble in the road, she drew on the power of her quafa'shilaar, her magestone, once again, and created a floating ball of light just behind her right shoulder. Now she could see, but fortunately or unfortunately, it would announce to any that saw her that she was Dar'Shilaar. Hopefully, that would protect her enough to get her safely home. Assuming she could find home.

  Chapter 7

  Hoyle awoke slowly, being jostled awake by the motion of the wagon on the cobblestones. His jaw ached badly where the soldier had struck him. He opened his eyes to a squint, determined not to give away the fact that he was awake. He was lying amid several other unconscious bodies in a caged wagon, hands tied together with coarse rope. His muscles were stiff due to the after-effects of the dark magic, bad positioning, and the cold breeze that still continued unabated. He checked quickly, moving as little as possible, but he was not surprised that he was unarmed. It appeared several others were awake, sitting up against the bars near the front of the wagon.

  It was still dark, and they were just pulling up to a tall, fortified wall, lit with just a few torches. Apparently there was another wagon in front, because he could hear it creak to a stop just ahead. He heard a call from down near the front of the first wagon, and a reply from above on the wall that were both carried away by the breeze. Hoyle then heard loud clanging noises, and his wagon lurched forward. They passed through a gate tunnel maybe six spans thick, the portcullis still being lifted above them. Hoyle could see murder holes, for shooting invaders from above, lining the ceiling. As the wagon he was prisoner in passed out from under the gate, he heard the portcullis drop back into the ground with a thundering boom. Based on the black stone of the walls, this must be Parr’ador, the large fortress at the east end of Tala’ahar.

  The Imperial City was laid out about equally on either side of the River Aerilynn as it flowed into the bay. The wall around the city was anchored on the west side of the bay with the small citadel, Dar’agen; its large catapults and ballistae capable of hitting ships hundreds of spans into the bay. The citadel rested on a high cliff that projected out into the bay, giving it a strategic advantage that was yet to be tested in war.

  The protective wall wrapped around the city proper, running all the way around to the fortress Parr’ador on the east. Parr’ador housed the Imperial Army, the Imperial Shipyards, and the dungeon known as The Depths. Parr’ador was a massive collection of high walls, towers, barracks, smithies, and the main fortress; almost a city unto itself.

  The main courtyard of Parr’ador was ablaze with light from torches spaced at regular intervals set in portable metal stands. There were dozens of Imperial Soldiers surrounding the wagons as they stopped. The soldiers wore banded mail, and wore swords at their hips on one side. Some carried crossbows. The wagons came to a full stop and the guardsmen unlocked the cage on the first wagon and began to start sorting prisoners.

  “Take him up, he seemed to be one of the leaders,” ordered what Hoyle assumed must be an officer; referring to someone he couldn’t see from his position. “The rest go to The Depths.” You could hear the capital letters in his voice. At this pronouncement there were several shouts, and he could hear the thrum of several crossbows firing, followed by two screams. “Does anyone else want to argue for mercy?” the officer demanded. It seemed like a mercy, for rumors implied that no one got free from The Depths.

  Finally, the soldiers arrived at Hoyle’s wagon. By this time he had determined that there was no benefit to pretending to be asleep. He would just get roughed up by the soldiers more than if he moved on his own two feet. So, when commanded, he climbed awkwardly out of the wagon as calmly and quietly as he could manage and moved toward the area directed. He noticed several things in the steady torchlight. The first was that Brows was separated from the group, guarded by four Imperial soldiers with four guardsmen to one side looking at them and him furiously. The Fear Squad stood near the front of the first wagon, near the oxen. Apparently draft animals weren’t smart enough to be afraid of the scaazi. A large squad of soldiers, possibly as many as thirty Hoyle estimated, were surrounding the area, guarding the prisoners. He noticed two bodies of Goralon soldiers lying a short distance away with quarrels in their backs, lifeblood slowly spreading along the flag-stoned courtyard. Several veklian slaves moved towards the bodies of the dead soldiers under the watch of a task master holding a whip.

  The veklians were waist high, dark skinned humanoids with no body hair and thick, tough, scaly hide. Their eyes were all black and they had a small vestigial tail a handspan long, and recesses for ears. The Empire had enslaved the race to do the dirty jobs no one else wanted to do. The taskmaster’s whip cracked several times near them as they began to drag the bodies away.

  Hoyle noticed several dark doorways leading further into the fortress, and the one large gate tower they entered the courtyard through blocked by the thick portcullis.

  One of the black robed Rak’soraa leaned in to talk to the officer Hoyle had singled out by his voice, the Rak’soraa’s glowing yellow eyes focused on him from the depths of his hood. The officer paled slightly as he listened, looked at Hoyle and ordered, “Put him with the other one. He’s going topside.”

  Hoyle rubbed his jaw with his tied hands as he was prodded towards the group guarding Brows. “We meet again,” Hoyle quipped to Brows, who was also unarmed with his hands tied. A hard smack across the back of his head nearly knocked him to the ground.

  “No talking unless asked a direct question!” brayed one of the younger City Guards, his voice just out of puberty. Hoyle looked back at him with a look of warning, and the young guard stepped back involuntarily before checking himself. The guard captain smirked at his subordinate but stepped forward with a hand on the pommel of his sword.

  “Are we going to have any trouble out of you?” the captain inquired of Hoyle with a glint in his eye, his breath frosting in the air.

  “Not tonight,” Hoyle replied. He noticed several cuts on Brows face, and a more recent bruise around his left eye as the man glared at him. The former were most likely from Salrissa, the latter from these soldiers. He bent slightly and rubbed his hands on his legs to try and get circulation and warmth back into his fingers. The ropes were very tight.

  He watched as the remainder of the prisoners were led to a sturdy oak door at the side of the courtyard. They were forced through the door into darkness, a group of eight city guards escorting them. Two veklians followed behind. The Imperial soldiers watched warily as the remaining guardsmen surrounded Brows and Hoyle, two carrying full sets of chains. The ropes were removed roughly by the guards and replaced by chains linking each hand to each other, in addition to the chain that was clasped to each ankle. Hoyle gasped as the cold steel was clamped around his wrists. The two of them were able to move their feet enough to climb stairs awkwardly, but running was completely out of the question.

  Hoyle caught Brows eye, and raised one eyebrow. Brows just glared death back at him. He wondered exactly why Brows was mad at him. After all, it wasn't like he had set Brows up to steal something valuable and then try to kill him. That was why he was mad at Brows after all. Was he mad about me setting Salrissa on him. Or was it because the City Guard descended on the tower. But then, Hoyle realized, Brows couldn't know whether he had called the City Guard or not. But why would Hoyle have called the guard, he just wanted his gold, and the city guard would just confiscate it as "evidence". Probably already have. For that matter how had they found them? wondered Hoyle. He looked over at the Fear Squad, and saw two sets of glowing eyes watching him back
from the depths of their hoods. Looking at the scaazi now, he didn’t feel the same crippling fear that had claimed him in the tower. Was that a power they were able to control?

  Once their chains were in place, the Imperial soldiers herded the two of them up the stairs towards a door that led into the back of the fortress proper, leaving the guardsmen in the courtyard. The fortress interior was unadorned stone, with torches lining the hallway, giving off acrid smoke. Hoyle saw soldiers and veklian slaves at various tasks as they passed through the corridors.

  They were ushered through a door at the end of the corridor into the main hall. There was a raised platform the officers’ table rested upon, set above the remaining tables for the men. They were herded towards a door at the back. One of the officers used two different keys on a chain to unlock the two locks on the door.

  Hoyle gasped as they were pushed into the next room. Even Brows took in a deep breath of surprise. The only furnishing in this bare stone room was a large, golden arch, a span and a half tall, holding five mage stones the size of Hoyle’s fist, glowing azure, amber, vermillion, garnet and indigo in the otherwise unlit room. A Magegate. A magegate that could only lead one place Hoyle realized – The Emperor’s Sky Citadel.

  ---o---

  Hoyle and Brows were ushered to one side of the room as the Fear Squad entered behind the contingent of Imperial soldiers. One of the Rak’soraa approached the magegate while the other watched the two of them intently with his unnatural eyes while holding the scaazi’s leash. The white eyes of the scaazi seemed to look through him. Hoyle shuddered involuntarily.