He turned to Rylan. “Can you show me where the trading post is?”
Lael set down Bryn and took Marcus by the shoulder. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “You heard the administrator. The Pey Weys want us out of Voltana.”
“The key unlocks a wooden chest that belonged to Ivanore,” said Marcus. “I have to get it.”
“But you’ll get arrested again, and getting you out a second time won’t be an option.”
A light breeze lifted a fine spray of dust into the air. It whirled for a few seconds before settling back down. The jail was situated several yards from the outskirts of the town, where a few dozen Pey Weys lingered lazily in the scant shady spots between the buildings.
“Rylan?” said Marcus.
Rylan glanced cautiously at Lael, then at Marcus. Lael cast Rylan a look that could kill, but both boys ignored it.
“It’s not far from here,” Rylan said. “But Lael’s right. If you get caught—”
“I have to get to Krak’s shop,” Marcus said. “What’s the best way to get there?”
Rylan grinned. “Well, if I were you,” he said, “I’d wait until dark.”
Seventy-one
Marcus and the others spent the day hiding behind some rocky dunes outside of town. Xerxes kept watch overhead, while everyone else took turns sleeping. Bryn, as it turned out, was the only one of them who had gotten any sleep the night before.
Voltana grew eerily silent once the sun had set. Rylan explained that with the exception of the sort of sacrifices Marcus and Bryn had almost become, Pey Weys did not like being out at night. As cold-blooded animals, they were dependent on the sun and the area’s volcanic activity to warm their bodies. As soon as the last Pey Wey was out of sight, they made their move.
Rylan was right about the trading post. It wasn’t far from the jail, and the open, barn-like structure was easy to distinguish from the smaller enclosures. Marcus and Rylan crouched behind a flat, stone platform and motioned for Lael and Bryn to hide behind a nearby podium. Xerxes perched on a rock pillar overlooking the entire area, which was illuminated by torches attached to the outsides of the buildings.
“This is a trading post?” asked Marcus, keeping his voice just above a whisper. “It looks more like the auction blocks back home where we sell our livestock.”
“The Pey Weys conduct business very much the way the rest of us do,” said Rylan.
“But the rest of us auction animals,” answered Lael, “not humans.”
Above them, Xerxes let out a very soft caw.
“Everything’s clear,” said Marcus. “That must be Krak’s shop across the way, the one with the chains across the door.”
Staying low to the ground, Marcus got to his feet and stepped away from the platform. Rylan caught him by his shirt sleeve.
“Careful! The Pey Weys do keep watch. The fact that we can’t see them makes me nervous.”
Marcus nodded to show he understood. Then he motioned for Lael and Bryn to stay put. He glanced up and down the deserted street and dashed across it to Krak’s. Once there, he scanned the front of the building for some way in. A moment later, he heard a noise behind him. He turned and found Lael squatting behind him, a torch in her hand.
“I told you to stay put!” he whispered.
“Oh, is that what you meant by—” Lael pointed her finger, wiggling it in a comical fashion.
Marcus fumed. “You know what I meant. You should have done what you were told.”
“When have I ever done what I was told?”
Marcus grunted continued trying to find a way inside that wouldn’t draw unwanted attention. He couldn’t worry about Lael now. If she wanted to put herself in danger, that was her problem. From the looks of it, though, the front entrance was chained up tight.
“So what’s your plan?” asked Lael.
“Magic,” he replied, though he did not sound as confident as he had hoped.
“What do you mean, magic? This is not a good time to get hit with one of your episodes, Marcus.”
“I won’t,” he answered. “At least, I don’t think so. I used magic last night and nothing happened—to me, I mean. No pain. No fatigue.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not sure exactly, but I think things changed when Zyll healed me in Dokur. Maybe he healed not only the knife wound but also the effects from when I healed Kelvin months ago. In any case, I want to try it again, just to be sure.”
Glancing around to make certain no one was watching, Marcus focused on a single link of iron. A ripple of power flowed out of him. A moment later, the link glowed white with heat and began to melt.
“Marcus,” Lael whispered, tapping on his shoulder.
He ignored her, intensifying his focus on the heavy chain.
“Marcus, don’t you think—”
“Shhh!” he responded harshly.
Suddenly the chain link melted through and fell to the ground in a loud, long clatter of metal. The sound echoed against the stone buildings all the way down the deserted street. Marcus cringed and waited for Lael’s inevitable snide remark. But none came. Instead, she quickly slipped inside the door. When he didn’t follow, she reached through, grabbed his arm, and yanked him inside.
Seventy-two
Once inside Krak’s shop, Marcus let his eyes adjust to the dim light. He took in his surroundings. They stood at the front of a small shop with floor-to-ceiling shelves full of items a metalsmith would make: plates, eating utensils, tools, locks and fasteners, jewelry, and an array of decorative items.
Lael set the torch into an iron sconce on the wall.
“Look for a wooden chest,” Marcus instructed her. He ran his hands over the surface of the nearest wall. “It’s very special so I doubt we’ll find it out in the open. He probably has it hidden somewhere, behind a wall panel or in a secret compartment.”
“Do you mean a chest like this one?” asked Lael, pointing to a wooden box displayed prominently on a table, a green silk cloth and several silver necklaces draped over its top.
Marcus grunted with irritation. It seemed the humiliation would never end. He strode to the chest and brushed the silk and silver to the floor with an angry sweep of his hand. The chest itself was made of a pale, yellow wood, simply constructed without any decoration at all. The only thing special about it was the brass lock, though it, too, was nothing remarkable. It did, however, bear a striking resemblance to the lock on Zyll’s chest back in Quendel.
Marcus retrieved Zyll’s key from his pouch. “Here we go,” he said and then turned the key. The lock clicked and popped open. Marcus and Lael glanced at each other. Marcus noticed the firelight dancing in Lael’s eyes. He looked back at the chest. The hinges creaked a little as he lifted the lid, as a fair amount of rust had accumulated on them. Zyll’s chest was full of an assortment of trinkets ranging from broken teacups and locks of Marcus’s hair saved from his childhood to pages torn from old books; there were so many other knickknacks, Marcus was not even familiar with them all. He had never been allowed to rummage through the chest but had looked over Zyll’s shoulder many times while he dug around for whatever item he needed. But this chest, lined in black velvet, held one item and nothing more: a book, though not a bound book, but a small stack of pages tied together with a red ribbon. Marcus reached in and carefully lifted it out. He guessed there were a little more than a dozen pages, marked with someone’s graceful writing.
“What is it?” asked Lael.
Marcus brushed his fingers over the top page. He silently read the first few lines.
“It’s a letter to my father,” he said, “from my mother.”
“Ivanore? What’s a letter from her doing here in Voltana?”
Lael’s question echoed Marcus’s thoughts. At one time, Krak and Zyll must have known each other well enough for their chests to share the same key. Had Zyll given Krak the letter for safekeeping? Or had Ivanore given it to Krak herself? Marcus untied the ribbon and leafed through the sheets that ha
d grown brittle with age.
“What are you doing?” Lael asked.
“Looking for answers,” replied Marcus. He tried to read the rest of the top page, but the light was too dim. “Bring the torch here.”
Lael did as he asked, holding it just over Marcus’s shoulder. They read the first page together:
My Dearest Jayson,
More than a year has passed since you left me standing alone on the cliffs of Dokur. I still can see your face, taste the salt of your tears on my lips as the soldiers tore you from my arms. My heart was torn from me that day as well, carried with you on a ship to a faraway land.
I have waited for your return these many months, but as each day passes with no word from you, I fear that you are injured or dead, for I know that nothing save death would keep you away from me. In my mind, I see you in shackles, your skin bruised and bleeding, and somehow I know it is because of me that you suffer.
If this vision be true, then you cannot come to me. Therefore, I must come to you. Our sons will be safe with your father. He has promised to look after them and has sworn to keep their identities hidden to protect them from those who wish to do them harm.
I had almost forgotten that you know of only one child. I never had the chance to tell you of the second, but no matter. We will all soon be reunited. I leave only this letter behind in the event that you return before I have found you. Should that happen, please wait for me. I also leave with this letter documents I have gathered as evidence against my father’s enemies. It is enough to finally loosen the hold they have on the throne of Dokur. With this evidence, Dokur and our children will finally live in peace.
Take care, my love, and protect these pages with your life if necessary. There are those who will go to great measures to see them destroyed. Now I go. I pray to the gods that I will be successful in my quest and that soon I will be in your arms once again.
Your beloved,
Ivanore
Marcus turned to the second page and looked it over as Lael read along with him. They did the same with the next page and the next.
“Those first pages look like legal documents of some kind,” said Lael. “A treaty? Contracts, maybe.”
“These others are different,” noted Marcus, glancing through several other pages. “Look at this one. It goes on and on for six pages.”
“What is Vatéz? It’s in the document’s title and appears several times on every page.”
“I think it’s pronounced ‘va-teez,’ though I’m not sure what it means. Maybe it has something to do with this list of names.”
Lael took the documents from Marcus and read over them while he looked at the final page, which was not a document at all, but a map. From the shape of the land and its markings, it was clearly not of Imaness but seemed to be of the mainland. Of Hestoria. But the locations and other writings on it were in a language unfamiliar to Marcus. He recalled the time magic had helped him translate some text outside the library in Noam during his quest. He might be able to translate this, as well, but it would have to wait until he had time to examine it more closely.
He turned his attention back to the chest and wondered if it would be worthwhile to take it with him. It wasn’t too large to carry, after all, and with nothing inside, it wouldn’t be heavy. He glanced inside, imagining how much of Krak’s jewelry might fit in it, when he noticed the bottom seemed loose.
He pulled back the velvet lining and found that the wooden bottom had cracked with age. He lifted off the broken section and discovered that this wasn’t the bottom of the chest at all. Rather, it had been laid over a shallow space, creating a false bottom. Marcus removed the remaining sheet of wood. There, atop several leaves of blank parchment, was a polished medallion crafted solely of Celestine.
Seventy-three
Marcus stared at the medallion for several moments. He had seen only one like this before, and the two were nearly identical. The other had once belonged to Ivanore and now belonged to Kelvin. Marcus remembered how Hyer, the leader of the grocs, had spoken of such a stone. He had dismissed the possibility of it being Ivanore’s seal since hers had been broken into pieces. But here was a second seal intact! It must have been the very same stone Ivanore had shown to Hyer.
Marcus glanced at Lael. She was focused on the pages. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he felt that this seal was meant for his eyes only. He quickly slipped the medallion into his pouch. Just then, Lael called to him.
“Marcus, you need to read this part of the ‘Vatéz’ document,” she said, handing him the pages. Marcus took them and read the passage Lael had pointed out. Then he read it again.
“Is it possible?” asked Lael in alarm. “Could these documents be real?”
“Why wouldn’t they be?”
“Because if what these papers claim is true, then Kelvin and Jayson are in real danger.”
Marcus nodded. “We have to get back to Dokur right away.”
The candles flickered with a sudden whoosh of air. Xerxes flew into Krak’s shop, landing clumsily on the table beside the chest.
“They’re coming! They’re coming!”
Marcus did not need an explanation. He understood immediately that the Pey Weys had likely heard the racket he had made with the chains and were on their way to inspect the cause. Marcus tucked Ivanore’s pages into his satchel. Then, using magic, he extinguished the torch.
“Xerxes, tell Rylan and Bryn to meet us outside the village!” he said hastily.
Xerxes hopped onto his shoulder. “They’ve already gone,” he said. “They’re out of danger. But you two have got to get out of here now!”
Xerxes leapt from Marcus’s shoulder and swooped out the door into the night. Marcus hurried to the door and glanced out. Six Pey Wey guards marched toward them, torches and lances held at ready.
“We can’t go that way,” Marcus said, slipping back into the room. “Is there another door?”
Lael was already frantically searching the back wall for an exit. She turned to Marcus, shaking her head.
“If they catch us in here, we’re finished,” said Marcus.
“Then we’ll have to fight them.”
“All six of them? I’d really like to survive long enough to get home. Look for another way out.”
“I did look. That door is the only way in or out of here.”
Marcus had only a moment to decide what to do. He hurried to the back wall. “Well, it worked in the groc’s cave,” he said, pressing his hands against it.
The wall shuddered just as the first guard stepped through the doorway. “Intruders!” he shouted and darted toward Marcus.
Acting on instinct, Lael reached for Marcus’s dagger. She swung it forward, its blade clashing with the tip of the guard’s lance. The guard lost his balance and stumbled forward.
As the other guards filed in, the walls vibrated again, more violently this time. A sharp, popping sound rang through the shop, and a deep crack appeared in the wall just above Marcus’s hands, snaking up toward the ceiling.
“It’s coming down!” shouted one of the guards, and they all turned, scrambling to get back outside. The crack widened, and the ceiling opened. Marcus let go of the wall and grabbed Lael by the arm. He pulled her close to him and shoved the broken wall. Marcus and Lael pushed through, falling in a heap on the ground as the building collapsed in a pile of rubble behind them.
“Not again!” Lael pushed Marcus off her.
“Sorry,” said Marcus, standing to brush the dust from his clothes.
“Uh, Marcus?” said Lael.
“What?”
“We’ve got company!”
Seventy-four
The five guards not caught in the shop’s collapse stood on the other side of the pile of rubble, shouting angry threats. Marcus went for his dagger but found it missing. He turned to Lael, who held up her empty hands.
“I dropped it coming through the wall,” she said apologetically. “It must be buried under all this.”
Marcus didn’t have time to lament the loss of his knife. He glanced around, trying to decide what to do next. Gather the rubble into a barrier of some kind? Send a gush of wind to throw the guards back? Before he could do anything, however, one of the guards let out a loud humph! and then fell to the ground unconscious. Marcus looked behind him. Lael stood with her sling spinning above her head. She let loose a second stone. The next guard grabbed his shoulder and screamed out in pain but kept coming.
Lael snatched another stone from the ground to load her sling as three guards charged forward. Marcus swept his palms forward. A wave of gravel and rocks rose from the ground, pummeling the guard in front. But it was only enough to keep them back for a few seconds.
The last two guards were too close now for the sling. Lael ran back, trying to lengthen the distance between them. Marcus flung another shower of stones, harder this time, and managed to bring one guard to his knees. But before he could repeat his attack, the last guard was on him. The guard kicked Marcus in the chest. Marcus fell backward onto the ground. The guard then lifted his lance with both hands and prepared to plunge it into Marcus.
“Lael! Shoot him!”
“He’s too close!”
“Just do it!”
Lael obeyed. As the stone shot forward, Marcus followed its brief trajectory with an intense gaze. Just as it reached the soldier’s face, it exploded with such force that the sound of it sent shockwaves through the air. The guard screamed in pain and, grabbing his face with both hands, dropped his weapon to the ground.
Lael’s sling spun again. But then suddenly, it was snatched from her hand. One of the injured guards had somehow sneaked up behind her and taken her by surprise. In the next moment, he held her tight against him, a stone blade pressed to her throat. Several of the other guards slowly got to their feet, staggering from pain but still ready to fight.
Marcus froze. What could he do to the guard that would not hurt Lael, too? He had to think fast.
The Last Enchanter Page 19