Still the guards refused to talk. Sebine wondered if they were mute. Perhaps Lord Oberon had removed all the tongues of the guards inside the building to ensure his secrets were safe. Whatever the reason, the guards slammed the door shut and locked her inside, leaving her powerless and chained in her cell like a criminal.
Sebine was furious at herself for not acting sooner. Now she was gagged and tied and had no way to cast any spells. How had she been so stupid as to allow herself to be trapped in this situation? All the warning signs along the way that she ignored. She should have prepared herself and planned better before venturing inside Lord Oberon's house of horror. If she wanted to survive, she had to find a way out of these manacles.
The cell was almost completely dark, with only the tiniest bit of light filtering in underneath the iron door. She needed light to see her way around and discover a way of freedom. Why didn't Master Vhelan need to perform the hand movements? In fact, in the heat of battle, she rarely saw him chant at all. His hand flourishes were almost an after-effect. Perhaps they were unnecessary to casting spells? What if the words they chanted were just focusing points for the mind?
She puzzled through her memories of all the times she'd seen displays of magic, from the Hakkadians and from the wizards of the Arcanum. Most never spoke at all while casting. And Master Greyth Shalinor had sometimes snapped his fingers or just performed an artistic flourish of his fingers. Surely he wouldn't find himself chained long inside this cell. The manacles would probably melt away into slithering snakes. How did he do it?
Her mind drifted back to the time when she'd tried to leave the palace and help Tael after his bloody encounter with the assassin. She'd learned a bit of the rules of magic from Master Vhelan, but still not enough to satisfy all her questions. If only she'd pressed Master Vhelan during their journey south to Karth, then maybe she'd possess additional abilities to protect herself and Tael.
The coldness of the cell crept into her shivering body, and she found an ache developing in her arms and shoulders from being stretched out by the iron manacles. This was torture and she refused to be another victim of this Lord Oberon and his witch. She remembered back to the times she had cast the spell of light illumination in the Hakkadian chamber. There in her mind's eye it was clear: the picture of her hands moving in the pattern for generating light. She played it over and over again in her mind until everything was exact. While she played the movements in her mind, she hummed the sound of the chanting until her mind picked up the words and she heard them vividly.
The sound was perfect, and she found an idea had crept into her mind. What if she brought the chanting and the hand movements together in her visualizing? Excited at the prospect of success, she split her mind into two parts, one part chanting the words needed to summon light, and the other part flourished her fingers in the pattern needed for the spell.
Darkness still possessed the cell. But she refused to be disappointed, and tried both again, this time making sure the timing of performing both the chanting and the hand movements were perfectly matched like how she'd done before when unfettered with a gag and manacles.
This time it worked! As light filled the filthy cell, she tried to cheer but the gag over her mouth made a moaning sound. The brilliance from the spell was almost blinding. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she felt the Ring of Galdora warm against her finger, and a heat poured up her arm and purged the cold from her body. Her mind cleared from the light and the warmth filling her body, giving a sharp focus to her thinking. Now how would she escape from the manacles clamped tightly around her wrists?
She shook the irons and noticed that it was held by a basic mechanism without even a lock. The harder she shook the manacles, the more the pin moved. But it was clasped in place by another smaller pin that kept the larger pin from sliding out. If she could cast the spell to move objects, she could move the smaller pin out of place, and do the same with the larger one. And she would be free. At least free of the manacles.
It took her about ten minutes to visualize the hand movements and sync with the chanting needed to cast the spell. She practiced it on a rock on the floor, and after a few times was able to gain the precision necessary to move the pins out of the manacles, and soon they clinked and clattered on the stone floor. She freed herself from the iron and massaged the bruised skin where the manacles had pinched her wrists. Escaping this place unscathed would be difficult, and she still had to find Tael. Assuming the witch hadn't tortured him to death...
The lock mechanism melted easily under the fiery heat of her spell, the same spell she'd used to boil the blood of those soldiers. But before she left her cell, she decided it was important to memorize and master the ability to cast all the spells that she knew without needing to chant or move her hands. So she stood off to the side, dimmed the light in the room to prevent any patrolling guards from discovering her, and closed her eyes to practice the visualizations. She refused to ever allow herself to be so vulnerable again.
After what seemed like an hour of practicing all the spells that she knew, she felt confident that she'd mastered most of her spells, including flying, and changing forms. Although she had no one to try the mind control spell on, and didn't dare attempt it anyway without more practice. The few times she'd tried it had failed.
While she was practicing the spells, an idea had come to her for a plan of escape. It was a risk, but she had to try it. Now that she had met Lord Oberon and had spent enough time to memorize his features, she felt confident she could cast the spell of self-illusion. Hopefully he was sleeping now, as she guessed it was quite late at night. And hopefully the prisoners were sleeping as well, although perhaps the sight of Lord Oberon was not a strange sight to these prisoners, as Sebine was sure there was a good reason for these men to be here instead of being dead.
After she cast the spell, she marveled at the completeness of the vision, including the slight trembling of the arms, a common symptom of old age. She tried to walk normally down the corridor, keeping her chin high and eyes haughty, but none of the prisoners roused as she passed their cell. One snored fitfully, and the sleeping prisoners seemed inured to the maddening sound. She climbed the stairs from where she had entered, hoping no guards patrolled the area. Before reaching the top, she listened for a few seconds, and found the area quiet.
At the top of the stairs she froze, spying a guard standing in attention at the far end of the hallway, but relaxed when she noticed he had dozed off. This was perfect. She strode over to the man, and cleared her throat.
"Do I pay you to sleep?" Her voice sounded old and tired, almost identical to Lord Oberon's. She hoped she'd matched the actual features of his face.
The guard jolted in surprise, his eyes wide with horror as realization came over his face. "M-m-m'lord?" So the guards could speak, they were just trained not to interact with prisoners.
"I said, do I pay you to sleep?"
"No, m'lord. I'm sorry, I must have dozed off... Did you want something, m'lord?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." Sebine narrowed her eyes at the guard in a look of suspicion. "Can I trust you, guard?"
"Absolutely, m'lord! Anything, you can trust me with anything you need."
Sebine tapped her foot on the ground, inspecting the man. "In absolutely confidence?" At the bobbing of the man's head, she leaned in and whispered in his ear. "I suspect a traitor in our midst. It could be a guard, it could be my clerk or one of my advisors, or it even could be my witch..."
"Your witch m'lord? You mean Jesmia might be a traitor?" The guard had lowered his voice as well, and his expression had hardened to one of concern and suspicion.
"Yes, though I doubt it, I have to consider every possibility. Though I can trust you, right? You'd never betray me..."
"No, no, never Lord Oberon! You saved me from the fate of the Whispering Ones. How could you have anything but my absolute loyalty?"
"Good, very good." Sebine gave him a long, pondering smile. "Then let us go. You a
re free to leave your post and follow me. I require a test of loyalty. Where did Jesmia take our young prisoner, Tael Shalinor? He left my office..." Sebine knew she was taking a bet, but thought it likely that the witch was interrogating or even torturing Tael for information. If she could find Tael, she believed they had a chance of escaping. They question was, could she cast the spell of illusion over Tael?
"Down in her laboratory, m'lord." The guard glanced at him warily, as if wondering why he would ask such an obvious question.
"Excellent. Take me to them at once. I have a few questions for the young man. Answers I hope will help me uncover this traitor." The guard nodded, but his eyes still held suspicion. Perhaps she'd gotten something wrong in her memory of Lord Oberon's face? As they were walking, she thought of something else to distract his mind. "Have you seen anything suspicious happening lately here? Or seen someone acting strangely?"
The guard shook his head. "No, m'lord, nothing out of the ordinary. And we always report it if we do. It's part of our training." At her words, the guard seemed even more doubtful, and his words had taken a tone as if he expected Lord Oberon to know this already.
But the man led Sebine down another flight of stairs, and down again until they reached an earthen-lined basement that ended at a steel door.
"This is as far as I'm allowed to go, m'lord. Strict orders by Jesmia."
"Do you think she's hiding something inside? Something that could be used against me?" Sebine did her best to keep calm at the guard's mistrustful expression.
"Is m'lord woken from a bad dream, perhaps? Because you often spend time down here in the laboratory with the lady Jesmia..."
"Yes, of course I do!" Sebine scowled at the man's insolence. "But Jesmia is always in my presence, is this not true?" The guard paled at Sebine's harsh tone.
She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I have to be absolutely sure that she can be trusted, do you understand me? Now can you unlock this door or not?"
"No one has the key except Jesmia. She insisted on absolute privacy."
"And is there a way to tell if Jesmia is inside her laboratory?"
The guard's facade of loyalty shattered, and his face turned hard and angry as he glowered at Sebine. "You were the one who insisted that the runes illuminate when Jesmia was inside. You're clearly not Lord Oberon. Not unless you've completely lost your mind." The man withdrew his short sword and pointed the tip at Sebine's belly. "I think you better come with me."
In a practiced instant, Sebine cast the stunning spell and seized the man's sword from his hand. After she knocked off his helmet, she smashed the back of his head with the pommel of the sword. He collapsed, and when the stunning spell wore off, the man remained a heap on the floor. She leveraged the opposite wall and cast another spell, easily pushing his heavy body over to hide in the shadows.
There were no runes illuminated along the door's lock. Jesmia had likely left Tael inside. Hopefully he's still alive, Sebine thought, and sent a silent prayer to the gods for it to be true. The only problem that remained was how to open the door without alerting the whole building? If this was a magically sealed door then Sebine doubted she could open it using flame to melt the lock. She bent down and inspected the lock, saying a silent curse against the witch for constructing such an elaborate mechanism.
Footsteps on the stone stairs caused her to twirl around at the threat, and she backed away into the shadows, determined to remain unseen. This might be her only chance to save Tael, if she could sneak in unnoticed by the witch, or if she had to, cast the stunning spell and cause her blood to boil. Likely, killing her was the only way...
Chapter Eight
"WE'VE HEARD AN interesting report from the witch in Glar Bay." Prince Xanthes swirled his silver robe around in a flourish, causing the black runes etched along the edges to activate in a glow of black light. King Braxion studied the Prince's ghastly face and wondered how this powerful entity could be his grandfather. But in the eerie light of the vast, candlelit chamber, he felt as if they were on the verge of some great and momentous event, one that would lead to the return of Prince Xanthes to the land above ground. A frightfully glorious day that would be.
Braxion sighed and studied an ancient relic on a long, wooden table filled with candles. A crystal orb with an eye that blinked at him as he inspected the relic. The Witch's Eye, it was called. Every time he'd returned to Naverstrom, Braxion had tried to see his mother, Koroshen, but the witch had refused to grant him an audience. He'd received exactly one response from her—the last time—after all the attempts he'd made. But she was always watching...
Braxion,
Prove yourself worthy and perhaps I will consider a meeting.
— K
How could he ever prove himself more worthy? He'd unified all the fractured fiefs and brought together the various lords under one kingdom, and with the help of the Hakkadians, had conquered and subdued the dragons. Unfortunately the Hakkadian traitor, Master Vhelan, had just stolen most of the dragons. But that was another matter for him to deal with soon. He couldn't allow theft of his property to go unpunished.
The Prince's fiery-green eyes blazed as he stared at Braxion as if wondering whether he was paying attention. "It seems that Master Greyth Shalinor is still alive, as is his grandson. And your daughter is with the young Tael Shalinor in Glar Bay. The witch Jesmia has given one of my servants an interesting account after she interrogated the boy. They are attempting to go west and form an alliance with the Malathians."
"Little good that will offer them. The Malathians are weak—"
"Perhaps you should listen to my entire report before interjecting commentary, grandson? I'm afraid your rash, human blood is too strong... There is much you need to prove before displaying your arrogance to the world. The only thing that matters is for us to secure the artifacts necessary to grant my freedom from this gloomy prison. And so far the only artifact we've secured is the Amulet of Tabershem, and this is because of the demon we successfully implanted in Master Loral of the Arcanum. What of the Malathians?"
"We've had several border skirmishes with them." King Braxion cleared his throat in embarrassment, knowing how he handled the Malathians was a disaster. "I was about to call an army against their kingdom—"
"None of that is of any importance. The dwarves are far more urgent to our cause. We can deal with the Malathians later. The elves are an entirely different story... For now, go at once and deal with the dwarves in Magrad. Our spies tell us that the traitor, Master Vhelan, has negotiated an alliance with them. Your reputation among the other Princes is dwindling, and our Lord and Master is demanding progress. Win this battle against the dwarves and you might find favor returning to you, Koroshen has indicted this to me. Fail, and you'll find your head offered as a sacrifice to the dragons."
King Braxion bowed his head in subservience to Prince Xanthes, knowing that his punishment should have been far worse for what had happened to the dragons. In a bold move, he raised his voice once again as his grandfather was about to leave the dark chamber.
"Thank you for your kindness. I will not fail against the dwarves." He cleared his throat and glanced at the Prince's demonic eyes. "And what other news have your heard from the witch in Glar Bay?"
"Nothing that you need to know." The Prince studied Braxion as if deeming him unworthy of his respect. "The next time I share information with you, try and keep your mouth shut long enough to listen. Remember, you are not the only grandson I have in this world. There are others waiting to take your place. Keep this in mind as you venture out to conquer the dwarves."
Prince Xanthes turned and left the empty chamber. But the crystal eye on the table still stared at Braxion, unblinking and unnerving, as if measuring the weight what it saw. After a long, uncomfortable time, it faded slowly into darkness. His mother was watching him. If he proved himself on the battlefield against the dwarves, she would finally agree to meet. A fire raged in his belly as he pictured the slaughter of the dwarv
en army, and gaining revenge against the Hakkadian rebels led by Master Vhelan. Braxion still had the dragon king, Keraxes, and he was certain the other dragons would obey and follow them once Keraxes commanded it.
It was time to go to war.
Chapter Nine
IN THE MOONLIT aura of the ice-capped mountains, Master Vhelan flew with the sixteen dragons of his group, searching the skies for any signs of King Braxion's dragon, Keraxes. If the King only flew with the four dragons that had accompanied him on his last flight to Naverstrom, then Master Vhelan would ruthlessly strike and strive to conquer or kill all the dragons and their riders. But if the other Hakkadians in Naverstrom had managed to acquire other dragons from the remnants up north, then the sorcerer knew he was likely doomed to fail.
Flying out here on such a calm night increased their risk of discovery by King Braxion, but it also provided Master Vhelan with a clear view of the sky and of the draenyx army marching below. They had perhaps only half a day before the abominations sieged the gates of Magrad. Hopefully Master Vhelan's sorcerers had enough time to successful ward the tunnels into the dwarven city, and seal the gates with their destructive runes. Not that it was enough to stop the thousands of strange and powerful creatures.
Far out near the twin peaks of Var'kalla, he spotted a shimmer of light move across the horizon. There! He had been flying these mountains for hours, keeping sight of the draenyx army below, hoping for a chance to intercept King Braxion and his allies before they reached the army. It was Master Vhelan's only chance to gain an advantage in the war. If he failed now he knew he had to quickly return to Magrad and help aid the dwarves. With Mistress Lassendre held inside the filthy, dwarven city, he had no choice...
Lord Of Dragons (Book 2) Page 5