“That was impressive,” Jack said.
Jataan nodded, frowning slightly. “I should have been blinded by such light, and yet I could see more clearly than ever.”
Anja and Lita nodded silently.
The staff was stout, just over an inch in diameter, six feet long, shod in four inches of silver on each end. The entire surface was carved with elaborately combined magical symbols. Its colors screamed of power and light. When Alexander willed it to produce dim light, the top shod began to glow softly, then winked out with a thought. It was as if the staff had become an extension of his body, sensing his will and obeying his thoughts as quickly as one’s hand moves by command of one’s mind.
“For the moment, I think I’ll leave Luminessence right here,” Alexander said, leaning it against the doorframe and stepping out into the night.
“Be ready,” he said, facing his friends in the Wizard’s Den. “There’s no telling what will be waiting for you when I open this door.”
“We’ll be ready,” Jataan said.
Alexander nodded. “Is everything else in place?”
“Yes, by morning the forward operating base will be burned to the ground and what remains of the Lancer contingent will take heavy casualties from our militia ambushes.”
“Excellent,” he said, closing the door and mounting up behind Kiera. After she helped him lace in, she prodded her wyvern into a roar, signaling the launch command. Eight Sky Knights took to wing, gaining altitude slowly as they floated east toward Mithel Dour.
Chapter 28
Isabel drifted into awareness shrouded in a cocoon of distant pain, recoiling into the sanctuary of oblivion again and again before gaining enough sense of herself to hang on to consciousness. She was in a bed. Other people were in the room, but she couldn’t see them. A moment of panic seized her, flooding into every part of her body.
Was she blind?
Her hands came up involuntarily, sending a wave of pain through her body, but revealing that her eyes were bandaged.
“Ah, she lives,” Phane said.
It all came back to her at once. She was free of the constant nightmare induced by Azugorath while she’d been unconscious, but she was still Phane’s prisoner … and … she had managed to resist the Wraith Queen—no small thing. Phane had beaten her for breaking his mirror. She tried to smile but could only manage a wince.
“Take off her bandage,” Phane said.
Gentle hands began unwrapping the bandage around her head. She let them work. The light was painful, but she could see, at least as much as the swelling around her eyes would permit. Her face felt bruised and battered.
Dierdra looked at Isabel’s face and eyes, examining her injuries before nodding to herself with a sigh of relief.
“She’ll mend, Prince Phane,” she said, bowing out of the way.
Phane sat down on the edge of the bed, smiling at Isabel as if he were genuinely relieved that she was recovering from the beating he’d given her.
“I knew you’d pull through,” he said. “Never doubted it.”
“Glad to hear it,” Isabel said, thickly.
“You just rest now. Your friends will be along in a few days; we’ll talk again then,” Phane said, patting her on the leg with a cold smile before strolling out of the room, leaving her in Dierdra’s care.
Isabel mostly slept for the next two days, waking only long enough to eat or drink before going back to bed, and then never fully waking. She tried to focus her mind on the light within, working to penetrate the veil of darkness cast across it by Azugorath, but she failed with every attempt. The harder she pushed, the more the Wraith Queen resisted her efforts.
She woke groggy, but with renewed strength, carefully easing out of bed and gently stretching her stiff muscles.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed, My Lady,” Dierdra said, hurrying through the service entrance.
“I’m hungry … something with substance,” Isabel said, easing back onto the bed.
“Yes, My Lady.”
Dierdra returned a few minutes later with a tray of food: stew, bread, cheese, and vegetables.
Isabel started easy with a few spoonfuls of the stew’s gravy to wake her belly, but before long, she’d nearly cleaned the platter and felt much better for it. After eating, she went to the balcony, sitting heavily on one of the lounge chairs and closing her eyes for a nap.
By the following morning, she felt almost whole again, except for a halo of pain that seemed to float around her head at all times. It wasn’t intense but it was constant, a reminder of just how far she could push Phane. Still, breaking that mirror, taking that capability out of his arsenal, that was worth a beating.
Dierdra returned an hour after clearing lunch, white as a sheet. “Prince Phane will be dining with us tonight. He said to expect guests.”
“Thank you, Dierdra.”
Since she’d awakened, Isabel had been worrying about Wren and Lacy, reasoning that Phane had recaptured them, but hoping otherwise. That hope was dwindling quickly. Given her condition, it wasn’t time to act; all she could do was wait.
Phane arrived well before dinner with flowers and a bright, joyous smile.
“You’ve come so far so fast,” he said, carefully placing the vase of flowers in the exact center of the table. “I didn’t even expect you to be on your feet by now, let alone up to entertaining guests.”
“Your concern is touching,” Isabel said.
“Isn’t it though? Let’s not forget, you brought all this unpleasantness on yourself.” He shook his finger at her. “You had no right. That mirror was irreplaceable.”
She didn’t respond.
“I thought as much. Come with me.” He led her down to a large supply room; a few guards were stationed inside. Phane gestured to the only chair in the room. If she’d had more strength, she would have stayed on her feet.
“Bring them in,” Phane said.
A guard opened the door. Five people, all strangers to Isabel, filed in and stood a few feet in front of the wall. The door closed, all five of them jumping at the sound.
“Pick one,” Phane said.
“What? What for?”
“Not important, just pick one.”
“Tell me why or I’m not playing your game.”
“I see,” Phane said, turning casually to the five frightened people. With a gesture, he smashed all five of them into the wall so hard that their heads and torsos were crushed—literally popped—leaving crimson splatter marks on the walls where they hit.
“You bastard!” Isabel shouted, surging to her feet and lunging at him. He caught her with his magic and lifted her off the ground, gently depositing her back in her chair.
“Stay,” he said, giving her a stern look before gesturing to the soldier at the door. Another five people filed into the room, fear palpable in their expressions as soon as they saw the five fresh corpses.
“Pick one.”
“I hate you.”
“I can do this all day,” Phane said. “Shall we call in the next group?”
“No, I’ll pick,” she said, scanning the five souls whose lives were in her hands and landing on the oldest man in the bunch. He had kind eyes and a weathered look about him and he nodded sadly when she settled on him, stepping forward.
“Take me, My Lady. My life is mostly behind me.”
“Well said, old man,” Phane said, snapping his fingers at a guard. “Remove him and let him go unharmed.”
“Pick another one,” Phane said.
A wife, a husband, a brother, a daughter.
Isabel couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat so she just pointed at the middle-aged man.
“Free the rest of them unharmed,” Phane said, lifting the man Isabel had selected off the ground with his magic, then slowly drawing him through the air, turning him to face him and holding him a foot off the ground.
“He’s afraid,” Phane said.
“I’m sorry,” Isabel said, hanging her head.
Phane cast a spell, still holding the condemned man off the ground with his magic. A set of four small rings of reddish energy materialized in midair. Phane moved the man to the four magical rings, aligning two with his ankles and two with his wrists. Then each ring snapped into place, suspending the man a foot off the ground, completely helpless.
With a few words, Phane burned a magic circle into the stone floor, bright red symbols fading quickly through orange, then to black.
“Please don’t do this,” the man begged. “I’ve never done anything to you.”
Phane laughed in his face, forced and deliberate, devoid of humor.
“Let him go,” Isabel said.
“Or what? That’s the real question, isn’t it? It’s the only real question. What can you do? What will you do?” He held her eyes but pointed to the helpless man. “I’m going to have my way with this man and there’s nothing he can do to stop me. He’s powerless; I’m powerful. That’s the only reality that matters—certainly the only reality that matters to him right now.”
“Please don’t do this …” the man begged, crying.
“What do you want, Phane?” Isabel asked.
“I want to show you the consequences of your actions,” he said, gesturing toward her, lifting her off her feet, putting her back in her chair and binding her there with a spell.
“Don’t do this, Phane.”
“It’s already done,” he said, facing the condemned man squarely. “It was done the moment you broke my mirror.” With a gesture, the man slid through the air until he was floating in the center of the magic circle.
“Ready?” Phane asked with a smile, but then his visage transformed into a mask of unbridled rage and he began chanting in a guttural and angry language. Wisps of darkness started to swirl around the floor beneath the man. His fear spiked into panic. Phane cast about on the floor until he found a pebble the size of a ripe pea … grasping it with his magic, he brought it up floating in front of him and then propelled it through the man’s heart, stabbing through him cleanly like a pike.
The man gasped and sputtered, his life’s blood spilling forth, pooling inside the magic circle. But then the blood started moving, flowing toward the circle, into the symbols. The air grew heavy in the room, then suddenly cold. Isabel felt a dark and unnatural presence arrive. It felt unclean, as if the air itself had been spoiled.
“I have paid your price,” Phane said. “Will you show me?”
The corpse hanging by Phane’s magical shackles began to convulse, wracking violently as if it were struggling to get free of the bindings. Then the struggling stopped as abruptly as it had begun, the body hanging limp and lifeless for several moments before the head snapped back and craned out as far as it could reach toward Phane, its face seeming to spasm and contort unnaturally.
“Yes,” said a voice that was decidedly not human.
A chill of dread raced up Isabel’s spine.
“How has my plan unfolded?”
The area inside the magic circle became translucent, like moonlight with shadowy substance, then abruptly started showing images: Druja boarding a ship, followed by Rankosi disguised as a deckhand; the box exploding once the ship was a league out to sea; Lacy and Wren’s capture and secure transport back to the fortress city. The last image faded away and the darkness lifted, leaving a half-desiccated corpse floating in the middle of the room.
With a wave of Phane’s hand, the spell ended and the corpse crashed to the ground.
“This is what I must resort to since you broke my mirror,” Phane said. “You will choose my sacrifices from now on … as punishment.”
“You have the real box,” Isabel said, ignoring his very terrifying threat. She felt sick to her stomach, but pushed it aside and imposed control on her emotions as only a witch could.
“Of course I have the box,” Phane said. “I replaced it with a weapon inspired by your own Mage Gamaliel scarcely five minutes after Lacy Fellenden fell asleep the night she arrived.” He looked at her, shaking his head. “Did you imagine that it could be otherwise? My prize walks right through the front door and you think I would leave it in another’s care?
“I have all three keystones, my dear Isabel … it’s just that I can’t get to one of them right now.”
“That is a problem, isn’t it? But why the fake box?”
“Isn’t it obvious? My enemies want the box as much as I do, so I put a powerfully enchanted fake into play. It was a simple matter to ensure that it fell into one of my many enemies’ hands. After that, I could take their life with a single command. I had originally intended to end the Sin’Rath once they’d gathered on Ithilian, but I couldn’t resist when I saw the shade board the ship with Druja.”
“Aedan is dead?”
“If that was the dragon’s name, then yes,” Phane said. “I suspect the shade is especially unhappy with me, but it was well worth it. He’s dangerous enough as it is, but intolerably so in possession of a dragon. As for the witch, well … I’ve always hated the Sin’Rath.”
“I mourn Aedan,” Isabel said, “but I can do without Druja, and I’m happy to hear that the shade is preoccupied with you. More importantly, you still can’t open the box.”
“Not yet, but more paths to victory become available to me every day.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Hector, Trajan, Lacy, Torin … all of them represent a way to open the box. One of them will deliver, sooner or later. But even if they don’t, I can still win. Your beloved is a prisoner on Andalia. Once they persuade him to hand over the Stone, he will be delivered to me.”
“So your people don’t have the Stone now, then?” Isabel said.
“It’s only a matter of time.”
“If you say so.”
“As I understand it, Alexander is entangled in a web of lies with the Babachenko. He believes that he and the Andalians are working together in their efforts to recover the Sovereign Stone.”
Isabel tried to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t help herself. She broke down laughing, then slowly sat down to mitigate the pain her convulsions caused in her still-healing body.
“The Babachenko assures me that he’s created a spell capable of thwarting your beloved’s ability to see a person’s aura.”
“What about everyone else?” Isabel asked. “All of the other people who have to be around him if you’re going to make sure he doesn’t escape. Do you really think you managed to lie to him?” She started laughing again.
“It won’t matter,” Phane said. “Nero is there with ample forces. If the ruse doesn’t work, we’ll simply take Alexander without the Stone.”
“I bet that wouldn’t feel like much of a victory.”
“No, but it may be necessary. Besides, I’d wager that you would make for high-value leverage against Alexander. He might do just about anything to protect you.”
“He’d better not,” she said.
Phane frowned at her, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I will ever understand you,” he said, finally.
“I’m certain you won’t.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way, Isabel,” Phane said. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
“You don’t have anything I want.”
“Don’t you understand?” he snapped. “I’m offering you the world. You can rule over the entire Seven Isles in my name. I’ll let you run things any way you like.”
“I understand exactly what you’re offering and I reject it,” Isabel said.
“You know, it doesn’t have to be you, Isabel. I’m sure that any woman I chose in all the Seven Isles would be flattered by my attention.”
“Until she got to know you.”
“You try my patience.”
“What? Are you going to beat me again?”
“I just might, but later,” Phane said, motioning to the guard at t
he door the moment he heard the knock.
It opened wide and Lacy and Wren were herded into the room, followed by a stout man and a half dozen female guards.
“Well done, Drogan,” Phane said. “Report for duty tomorrow and don’t ever return to this house. Men are not allowed here, except in unusual circumstances.”
“I was sent to retrieve them,” Drogan said. “Job isn’t done until you deliver the goods to the boss.”
“Indeed, and a job well done at that,” Phane said. “You are dismissed.”
Drogan nodded awkwardly and excused himself, followed closely by two of Phane’s female guards.
Isabel searched Wren’s eyes for any sign of encouragement but found none, and her initial appraisal of Lacy found the princess wanting, or at least out of her depth. Things were going from bad to worse.
“Ladies, do come in,” Phane said. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a dinner for us all.”
Isabel nodded to Wren, almost imperceptibly. She came to Isabel’s side and took the chair to her right without ever seeming to look up.
“What is the meaning of this, Prince Phane?” Lacy demanded.
“The meaning is quite simple, Princess. You are my prisoner. You can either sit at my table on your own, or one of those very large men over there will pick you up and put you in your chair.”
Lacy started to say something else but thought better of it, clenching her jaw shut before she took the seat next to Wren.
“Excellent, I believe we’re beginning to understand each other,” Phane said, opening his Wizard’s Den with a gesture. He slipped inside, then quickly stepped back out, closing it behind himself with a word. He held up the box containing the third keystone and set it on the table in front of his chair.
“Lacy … I want you to open this box.”
Linkershim (Sovereign of the Seven Isles: Book Six) Page 37