The Legend of Oescienne--The Reckoning (Book Five)

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  Now, the limbit stood before them again, one ear cocked to the door, but most of his attention on his two friends.

  “There is a system of narrow tunnels that run below, above, and alongside the main corridors,” he whispered, swallowing back his nerves. “I followed them deep into the mountain, moving against the flow of water, hoping I was right in thinking the red soldiers were taking you up toward the castle. I listened and used my nose to find you.”

  Denaeh gave Ellyesce a look of astonishment.

  “You didn’t see me coming?” Dervit asked.

  Denaeh shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that, Dervit. Visions come to me when they see fit. And, most of my magic is drained, anyway. We haven’t eaten much since coming here. Besides,” she added rather blandly, “I suspect the rooms are warded by skurmages as well.”

  Dervit’s eyebrows lowered. “How did I get in, then?”

  Ellyesce shook his head. “The wards work only on those possessing magic.”

  The limbit nodded, his mouth screwed up in thought as he considered their explanations.

  Denaeh beamed at him then, reaching a hand through the thick iron bars to clasp Dervit’s shoulder. “I’m guessing they never imagined a limbit might be sneaking in to help his friends. I am very glad to see you, Dervit, even if I’d be more at ease if you had done what Jahrra asked and stayed behind.”

  Their small friend ducked his head, his cheeks turning a bit pink. “I had a bad feeling when you left,” he grumbled.

  “And, you followed your instincts,” Ellyesce said. “Do not fret, Dervit. We will not judge you. It is because of your instincts that we’ve escaped danger before.”

  Despite his weariness, Dervit perked up at that, smiling brightly.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since you entered the dungeons, Dervit?” Denaeh asked, leaving their easy talk behind.

  The limbit looked up at her with solemn eyes. “Two days. If I’m correct, it is the early morning of the third day.”

  The Mystic let out a weary breath and sat back onto a patch of moldy straw.

  “There is no way to tell what is going on up there,” she breathed, almost to herself. “I’ve been trying to convince Ellyesce to conserve his magic, or else I’d ask him to lend me more so I can send my awareness through the stone and ice. I’ve done it before.”

  When the elf arched his brows and took a breath to speak, Denaeh lifted a hand and shook her head. “The skurmages’ wards would prevent me from getting far.”

  Another outburst of noise from their guards. Denaeh scowled in their direction. “I don’t remember them being this noisy the past two nights.”

  “They are probably bored from the inactivity. A good sign, then. The allied armies will have camped on the western bank of the Noryen for the past few days now, at least. Perhaps, Ciarrohn’s forces have not viewed their approach as an act of war.”

  “I can try to sneak into their game room and steal the keys,” Dervit offered in a small voice.

  Ellyesce raised an incredulous brow. “Can you get in there?”

  Dervit nodded. “The drain I snuck through also opens up into the main corridor. Their room is almost directly across from yours. The one good thing about this horrible place is that most of the grates are rusted through or loose enough for me to lift. So long as I stay out of sight and move through the corridors when the men aren’t looking, I am safe.”

  The limbit made a face and crossed his arms. “They are half-drunk most of the time, anyway, or unconscious from too much drink. When that happens, I could probably chase an entire flock of perturbed geese through this prison and not be noticed.”

  “Do you know where Jahrra is being kept?” The sudden question from Denaeh erased Dervit’s sudden good humor. He shook his head solemnly. “I was hoping you would know.”

  “We were separated not long after being led into the caverns. My guess, though, is they have her locked up somewhere closer to the castle. Ciarrohn will want to play with his prize.” Denaeh’s face, like her tone, had grown dark. Fear pierced Dervit’s heart, and he pressed himself closer to the bars once again.

  “Do you think he will kill her?”

  The Mystic sighed and shook her head. “Not if my vision holds true. But, I don’t even want to imagine how they are treating her. Or Jaax.”

  This time it was Dervit who reached out a furry hand, pressing it against Denaeh’s. The Mystic looked up, her golden eyes meeting with the limbit’s stern brown ones.

  “Then, we must believe we can still save them. We must not give up hope, if not for our sake, then for theirs.”

  It was amazing, Denaeh thought, how much strength could be found in those so often considered weak.

  “You are right, Dervit.” Denaeh stood and pushed her face up against the iron keeping her and Ellyesce imprisoned. The cold metal bit into her skin, but she was so used to the frigid temperature of the dungeons it barely phased her.

  “I cannot see through the spy hole, but my guess is our guards are still at their dice and cards.”

  She turned and regarded the limbit. “The reason we agreed to allow Jahrra to leave camp and come here after Jaax is because she must face the Tyrant before the end. In all my visions in the past several years, I have always seen her standing or sitting or lying before him, on the terrace that forms the rooftop of the castle. Just Jahrra and Cierryon. I cannot hear their words, and the scene fades into a swirl of inky black clouds after that, but when the tempest is over, we stand victorious on the other side.”

  Dervit’s eyes had grown wide, but as soon as Denaeh stopped speaking to take a breath, he opened his mouth. A quick slash of her hand cut him short.

  “Do not ask me who survives, Dervit, for I will not tell you, even if I knew for sure. If we want to win this war against the Tyrant and the evil god who infects him, Jahrra must go before him.”

  “And, coming here like you did guaranteed she’d be brought before the king,” Dervit whispered, realization dawning.

  Ellyesce nodded, his face grim. “If she marched with the Coalition army, there was a good chance she might fall before reaching the castle.”

  Dervit stared at the floor, watching a shallow puddle of filthy water shimmer as it reflected the firelight from outside.

  “But, you knew she’d be mistreated. You knew you’d be mistreated.”

  Denaeh grew absolutely still, and Ellyesce beside her as well. Finally, Denaeh admitted with a shaky voice, “It was a risk we all took.”

  Dervit lifted angry eyes at the pair of them. “How could you?”

  The Mystic dropped into a crouch, her voice shaking as she said, “You saw Jahrra when she heard the news about Jaax’s capture. You heard what she said. Nothing, short of tying her up and drugging her, would have kept her from marching across the plains of Ghorium to the very gates of the castle to set him free. You know how stubborn she is.”

  Dervit wanted to be angry, for he saw the entire enterprise as a set up. But then, reason kicked in. Denaeh was right. And, how could he stand there and judge them? Had he not also left the camp behind to follow them? Did he not also understand the risk?

  “All we can do now is our best to help Jahrra, whatever it is we have to do to make that happen,” Denaeh was saying.

  “You said you didn’t know where she was,” Ellyesce offered. “Do you think you could find her?”

  Dervit glanced up at him in surprise. He drew a breath to speak, let it go, then opened his mouth again. Finally, he said very carefully, “It will be more dangerous than looking for you.”

  The elf and the Mystic nodded in unison.

  “You said the guards were incompetent,” Denaeh pointed out.

  Dervit shrugged. “Yes, down here. I don’t know about upstairs.”

  “You can always turn back if you think things are getting too dangerous.”

  “Or, you could come with me.”

  “No,” both Ellyesce and Denaeh said together.

  “We’ll
be caught for sure if we go with you. Remember the wards? We can’t break free,” Denaeh pointed out.

  “What if I unlocked the door and your cell?”

  Denaeh sighed. “Not yet, Dervit. Let’s learn all we can about our playing field before we make our move. If you can even eavesdrop on a conversation that will give us any inkling as to where Jahrra is, that would be helpful.”

  “We don’t want to set the entire castle into an uproar until the very last minute,” Ellyesce added.

  Denaeh could tell Dervit was ready to continue arguing the point, but she crouched down to his level again and said, “Please, Dervit. You are the only one capable of this task, probably the most important mission in all of this.”

  For several heartbeats, she watched the limbit war with his conscience. Finally, he drew himself up to his full height and closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath in the process.

  “Very well,” he breathed. “I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you,” Denaeh sighed, letting her own eyes drift shut. “But before you go, there is one more thing you can do for us.”

  Both Ellyesce and Dervit gave her quizzical looks, but she only returned a small grin.

  “Before you head upstairs to the castle proper, I need you to sneak into the guardroom. There is a good chance they have stored away something that could come in handy later.”

  Ellyesce narrowed his eyes at her, and Denaeh almost laughed. Oh, he knew her cunning heart far too well.

  “What?” Dervit squeaked.

  “My mage diamond.”

  -Chapter Twenty-Four-

  A Test of Courage, a Test of Strength

  Dervit crept from the cell the way he had come in, then stood beneath the drain on the corridor’s side of the small tunnel and listened. The laughter of the soldiers guarding the Mystic and the Magehn had died down, replaced now by deep snores. Good. Very carefully, he lifted the grate and slipped out, barely making a sound. Denaeh and Ellyesce had said Jahrra would be closer to the castle, so that meant traveling up once again. The limbit craned his neck and spotted more hashed bars covering gaps in the wall just below the roof. An air duct of some sort, perhaps. He had used those tunnels just yesterday to move up several levels. Perhaps they could take him to the foot of the castle.

  Before beginning the next harrowing part of his mission, however, Dervit had a task to complete. With the guards currently in an inebriated state, he was hoping Denaeh’s request would prove less difficult than he first anticipated. Tiptoeing down the corridor, the limbit stuck close to the far wall and watched the torch fire for any unusual gouts of flame. A sudden gust of wind or the dampening of the flames could mean a change in pressure somewhere. Or the approach of a larger group of people. Dervit didn’t want to risk capture, not when he had come this far and still hadn’t managed to help his friends.

  Holding his breath, he took a few final steps before coming to the guard room’s edge. Either luck was on his side, or Ethoes herself was looking out for him. The door had been left flung wide open. He stood still for several seconds, listening for any sudden movements or voices. Only heavy breathing and the occasional snort as someone shifted in their sleep. When he peered around the threshold, his suspicions proved true. Six men wearing the uniforms of the Red Flange lay scattered about the room. Two sat in rickety chairs before a table littered with cards, their faces pressed so firmly against the tabletop Dervit was sure they’d wake with splinters stuck between the bristles of their beards. Another soldier sat in a chair against the far wall, arms crossed, chin resting against his chest. A fourth man was sprawled out on a bench, one arm and one leg dangling to the ground. Beside him on the stone floor another one of his companions snoozed, his scarlet cloak thrown over him like a blanket.

  Dervit took his first tentative step into the room, almost leaping out of his skin when the sixth soldier, back pressed against the wall beside the door, legs sticking out in front of him like two felled trees, let out a particularly hog-like snore. Holding his breath, Dervit stood there like a statue until his heart calmed, and the noisy mercenary settled back into a deeper sleep.

  Besides looking for the large, magical stone for Denaeh, Dervit also wanted to locate an extra set of prison keys if he could. It would be advantageous to know exactly where they were kept, so when he came back for the Mystic and the Magehn, he wouldn’t have to waste precious minutes searching for them. If that luxury were even granted to him when the time arrived.

  Dervit scanned the walls for key hooks, but to his disappointment, they proved mostly bare save for a few ill-made cupboards. A desk of sorts dominated one corner, the only piece of furniture in the room not currently occupied by an unconscious soldier. Dervit headed in that direction, carefully stepping around sprawled arms and legs. The desk sported only a few compartments, so it wouldn’t take too long to search its contents. The wood squeaked faintly as he drew out one drawer after another, forcing beads of sweat to pop up on his forehead. Manacles, chains, rusty knives, a small journal, carved wooden figurines … All items that must have belonged to past prisoners. Dervit tried not to think about what had happened to them as he moved on to the narrow drawer in the middle of the desk. When he peered inside, he almost fainted in relief. A large ring of several keys lay in the middle. Now he knew exactly where to get them when he returned to free Denaeh and Ellyesce.

  Dervit was just closing the drawer when the flicker of torch light reflected off an object tucked in the back corner. Brows narrowed, he slid the compartment fully open and reached in. His fingertips brushed against something cool and spherical in shape. Beside it, his claw-like nails caught on what felt like a thin chain, too thin to be used on the prisoners. Heart leaping into his throat, Dervit scraped up both items and pulled them free. When he studied them in the dim light, he drew in a sharp breath. The round object was a beautiful, many-faceted stone, a little smaller than a hen’s egg. This had to be Denaeh’s mage diamond.

  After tucking the magical gem safely into one of his vest pockets, Dervit examined the other item. It was a pendant on a chain, one that looked fashioned from a beautiful piece of polished granite. Flecks of green, gold, bronze, turquoise, and copper shimmered when he held it up for better light. This time, his heart dropped to his toes. He knew this pendent. He’d seen it before. But where? Memory flashed in the next instant. This wasn’t a stone, but a dragon’s scale. The dragon scale pendent Jahrra always wore. Fear stabbed at him then, swiftly followed by anger. He knew how much Jahrra treasured this necklace. He had heard the story once. How she had managed to knock one of Jaax’s scales loose and the dragon had gifted it to her in the form of this pendent. It had been the first time she had held her own against a dragon. How dare they take it from her? What use was it to them?

  Dervit knew he should leave the pendent behind, put it back in the drawer and leave. The guards would be suspicious enough if they found the mage diamond missing, but he just couldn’t let go of Jahrra’s most treasured possession. Making a quick decision, he wrapped the chain around the scale and tucked it safely inside a hidden, internal pocket of his vest. So long as he wasn’t captured, or he didn’t lose his vest, it would remain safe there.

  And now, you have even more reason to find Jahrra, he told himself, as he vacated the room of snoring guards. To return her pendent to her.

  With that thought to reinforce his courage, Dervit snuck back into the hallway and through the drain to speak with Ellyesce and Denaeh again.

  “Thank you, Dervit,” Denaeh breathed, holding the mage diamond to her heart. “This should help bolster our magic.”

  Taking a shuddering breath, Dervit asked, “When should I come back to help you break free?”

  A calmness overcame the Mystic, and Ellyesce pressed closer to her. “While you were gone, Ellyesce lent me more magic.”

  “And you saw something new, didn’t you?” Dervit breathed.

  Denaeh nodded, her expression so carefully masked he couldn’t read the emotions flitting behind it.r />
  “When you first see the ice dragons, come back to us. But, no matter what else you witness, you mustn’t come to our aid until the Creecemind of Nimbronia are soaring the skies of Ghorium.”

  Swallowing back a lump of nervousness, Dervit nodded swiftly, then turned to leave the Mystic and the Magehn behind. He squeezed through the drain once more, then located the closest vent in the ceiling. He climbed the uneven stones protruding from the wall, and slipped through the large gap in the grate, all the while wondering if he was brave enough, clever enough, important enough to do what he must so that his friends could save their world.

  * * *

  Jahrra’s morning session with Boriahs and his assistant had proven to be a test of her endurance. Not just her physical endurance, but her mental endurance as well. In fact, it was much more a test of the latter than the former. The Tyrant’s general and his lackey had dragged her to another room below the castle, one not far from where they kept her locked up, and proceeded to introduce her to the traitor’s vest.

  An hour later, Jahrra was back in her cell, fighting against the tears threatening to spill forth. It wasn’t necessarily the pain that had her on the verge of crying, but the humiliation. The traitor’s vest, it turned out, was a chainmail garment lined with sharp barbs facing inward. The two men had made her strip down to her undershirt before forcing her into the thing. It was loose on her, but Boriahs knew how to tighten the sides so she could experience the full effect of the garment. Her entire torso ached and burned where the spikes still cut into her flesh. At least they did not pierce deep. Just enough to make her uncomfortable.

  “Our great lord has a very fun day planned for us tomorrow,” Boriahs had announced before locking her back in her cage, that cruel glint in his eye making her shudder. “I cannot wait.”