Chapter 28
Reed
They followed the wise woman into the lower floor of third tier Scholar House. It felt strange being back here. Reed knew his room was likely still as he left it, but he felt like a different person from the last time he had stood in this hallway. So much had changed in the short span of time.
It took everything within him, within all of them, not to run to the palace and confront the Sorcerer. Reed relied on a level head and knowledge, and he had no clue what to do. They had made their plan, but he didn’t know if it would work. They hadn’t counted on talking to this woman either. They thought she would be in hiding like the rest of their allies. Evidently, she had been overlooked.
They walked into an empty room, and Reed wondered who lived here. He didn’t remember ever seeing anyone leave or enter the unit, but he’d been under the impression that the chambers had all been full. It looked just like his room, a dull cubicle with two twin beds, two dressers, and two desks. If Scholars lived here, they were extremely organized and tidy.
Reed tried to penetrate the wise woman’s mind but saw nothing. He had been getting snippets of information from several citizens as they passed. The entire populace was scared, uncertain, and angry. They had planned their lives under King Demetrius, and now they were unsure of the future. Many of them, especially the Planners, struggled mightily with the new changes.
The room barely accommodated their group. Reed sat on the bed and Clay joined him while the Mishokian took the other bed. Seb scooted his butt up on one of the desks, watching. Mason and Ian stayed standing.
“Your arrival is good timing,” the woman began. “I assume he has taken the Indra since I do not see her here with you?” Her face had aged in the short time they had been gone. Her skin appeared more wrinkled and her eyes dulled. Just like the city, she had changed under the Sorcerer’s influence.
Mason nodded stiffly, and Reed’s hands clenched into fists. Waking up to find Kiarra gone had been the worst moment of his life. He felt as if he had failed and everything he had worked for meant nothing. It would be nothing if Kiarra didn’t return to them. He took the strength the others offered, but they all suffered. The wise woman looked at Ian.
“My grandson and Carson still live, but they are imprisoned in the castle with many others. The Prince has killed several. Why some still live is unknown, maybe because the Sorcerer knows they are bondmates to a woman.” She shrugged her bony shoulders wearily. She wasn’t laughing anymore. Unlike the first time Reed met her, her expression and words held no amusement. Ian sagged slightly in relief, happy his friends were still alive.
“Several women were captured from the countryside, but not nearly as many as the Sorcerer hoped. This was your doing?”
Mason nodded. “The Soldiers came to us under enchantment. When Kiarra broke the spell, we sent them out to stop others.” He was deliberately vague, but the woman didn’t seem to mind.
The woman looked at Seb. “Planner, you will find Kiarra where the darkness is the deepest in the palace.” Seb ruffled his brow and closed his eyes, and Reed assumed he was looking for this darkness the woman spoke of. She directed her attention to Mason next. “Your father is waiting for you, Soldier.”
Mason nodded, his massive fist clenching on his sword hilt. “I know. I shall deal with him before we go to Kiarra.”
“Yes, that is a good idea. If you do not deal with him first, your back will be vulnerable. There are those who do his bidding. If he dies, they will change their allegiance. He rules with magic and fear, not respect.” Mason nodded again, but Reed felt his alarm along the bond. No amount of preparation could prepare someone to kill his own parent.
“The Indra needs someone with her.” Reed sighed. They had argued whether to split the party or stay together, but it sounded as if Ian should go on alone if they listened to the wise woman. “Remember,” she pinned them all with a gaze that was far more intelligent and all-knowing than Reed imagined. Her regard sent a shiver down his spine. “Kiarra needs your energy, and you must give it to her freely. That is the strength of your bond.”
Reed stiffened. They knew this already. The wise woman pulled something from the scarf around her waist, and Mason stepped forward threateningly. The woman cackled, amused for the first time. “I will not use this against you, Soldier. Stand down. Kiarra can weaken the Sorcerer’s dark magic if she discovers the key, but he is still a man. Magic can kill him, but a mortal weapon will hasten the process and lessen the drain on her energy.”
Ian accepted the dagger. Reed assumed it was spelled. The blade was golden and shone like the magic of their bond in the dim light of the unit. The hilt was onyx and unadorned. The Spy slipped it into an empty sheath at his waist with the remainder of his knives and covered it with his tunic.
“What is the key?” Reed asked, picking up on the wise woman’s words. The old crone looked at him.
“Only Kiarra knows.”
With a bow, she left. Mason ran a hand over his head, and Clay sighed. “Could you read her?” Clay asked. “Was she telling the truth?”
Reed shook his head, mimicking Mason’s gesture as he thrust his hand through his unruly curls. “I couldn’t get anything off of her. I am uncertain.” He glanced at Seb. “Do you have Kiarra’s location, brother?”
“Yes, she is in the throne room.”
Of course. Reed pinched the bridge of his nose. The throne room was in the center of the palace. It was the hardest to get to and the most fortified. Ian could sneak in, but he wouldn’t be able to kill any of the guards without drawing attention to himself. It took too much energy to cloak them all, especially when they couldn’t access Kiarra’s power.
Reed glanced at Mason. “I will go with you to meet your father.” He said, surprising himself with the words. “Ian can go ahead; Seb and Clay will follow behind. We will congregate in the throne room. Can you make it close without dying?” Reed asked Seb, trying to put some levity into his voice.
Seb closed his eyes. “If Clay can influence a couple bone-headed guards, we should be able to get close enough with no one the wiser.” Everyone’s gaze swung to Clay, and the Merchant nodded woodenly.
“You should accompany them, Scholar,” Mason said, but Reed shook his head.
“You should not face your father alone, Mason. He doesn’t play fair. Not only that, but he will take one look at my blue tunic and not consider me a threat.” A smile curved Reed’s lips at the prospect. He might be a Scholar, but his body and skills were impressive. He possessed a burning lust for justice. If spilled blood was necessary, he was ready. Mason recognized the look in his eyes and nodded in understanding.
They rose together and met in the center of the room. Reed thrust out his arm. Clay’s hand rested on top of his, Seb’s hand followed, then Ian’s, and finally, Mason’s. Each connected physically; they felt the bond further strengthen. “For Kiarra,” Reed whispered, his voice choked with emotion. Each of them repeated his words, and their determination rang along the bond, finally overwhelming the fear. Without another word, they departed from Scholar House and went their separate ways.
Chapter 29
Mason
Mason hadn’t felt this helpless since he was too young to prevent his father from beating his mother. He remembered the fear, watching a man he loved and trusted use brutal force against his sweet mother. He remembered the rage and how his five-year-old self had hurtled toward his father, begging for the abuse to stop. The blood trickling down his mother’s pale face had scared him more than anything else he’d experienced in his short life. His father had shaken him off, and, when Mason hadn’t retreated, the bigger man had backhanded him.
From that moment forward, Mason had been determined to never feel helpless again. He had devised ways to protect his mother until he was old enough to fight back, either with threats or fists. His father hated him after that, though he still acted the role of the doting parent in public.
As they made their way toward the
Military Quarter, Mason solidified the old rage within himself, pushing away the helplessness. He was no longer a five-year-old boy. He was a man, and he had someone to fight for. It wasn’t just Kiarra. It was also her other matches, the women his father had ordered captured, and the Kingdom. No one deserved this evil, and Mason wouldn’t stand for it.
The energy built within him as a roiling ball of golden light, the strands of the web leading off to the others. The cord between Reed and himself strengthened because of their proximity and shared purpose. Reed didn’t look like a Scholar at that moment, despite his blue tunic. He was as much a Soldier as Mason.
The Military tunics created a sea of red as they neared the Military Quarter. It looked as if the High Commander was preparing for war. Other House patrons were almost nonexistent, except a few Planners who didn’t appear pleased at being corralled into building war machines and weapons.
Mason didn’t recognize many of the men. Some were lower tier and had been promoted prematurely. Some had always hated him, thinking his status as the High Commander’s son gave him an advantage. Those that had known and respected him wouldn’t meet his eyes as they passed, guilt and shame apparent on their faces.
They weren’t stopped as they made their way into the shadow between the towering Planning and Military Houses. The early morning light burst over the outer wall, lending sunshine to their dreary task. Mason was worried, though. He planned to capture or dispose of his father with whatever means necessary, but the mass of Soldiers standing around him was an unknown factor. If they decided to band together, he and Reed didn’t stand a chance. He told Reed this through their mental connection, but the stalwart Scholar merely nodded, his lips tight.
His father appeared to be waiting for him; Mason suspected he had been alerted to their arrival. They hadn’t hoped they could sneak into the city unawares, but Mason preferred to meet his father in a fair fight if it came to that. He examined the High Commander, noting the dark sheen to his eyes. The cruel shadows had always tinted his ice blue eyes. They grew darker every time he abused his power, but they had worsened since Mason’s departure. Mason might have hoped his father’s soul wasn’t thoroughly corrupted before they’d left the city, but he no longer had any doubts. It saddened him. His father might have been a different person without that stain of corruption.
“Ah, the prodigal son returns,” Calum Brantley drawled, leaning on the hilt of his broadsword. The tip dug into the foot Soldiers' dirt training arena. Soldiers ringed the arena, closing them in, and Mason felt a brief second of fear. They had been drawn into a trap, but there was still something noble about fighting on a field, man-to-man. He caught Reed’s eye, and the Scholar nodded. He would guard Mason’s back. Besides Ian, Mason couldn’t imagine a better man for the job.
“Father,” Mason greeted the older man. His eyes darted around the arena. Most of the men surrounding them were his father’s, but a few caught his eye, and Mason could read their intentions in their faces. If Mason managed to reduce his father’s influence upon them, they would follow him. Mason was comforted by the silent reassurance and met his opponent with his head high. They stood ten feet from each other in the makeshift ring, sizing each other up. He had learned some of his best moves from his father. The High Commander was no slacker, despite his age and status.
“The King has your bitch,” his father taunted. Mason’s lips tightened despite himself. His veins buzzed with irritation. No one insulted his Soul Match like that. He shook off the useless emotion. The only advantage he had against his father without using too much of the bond power was his level head. His father’s anger got the best of him more often than not, making his form sloppy.
“Is this another of the rejects you have to share your Soul Match with?” Master Calum Brantley sneered at Reed and pointed his sword at the Scholar. “You are not even a full man to warrant a woman all to yourself. You cannot fully please her.” A few men around the circle laughed at the jab; they probably believed the same. Mason knew differently. He was not less of a man, but more of a man, because he could share his woman with good men. The knowledge buoyed him.
“Down!” Reed’s mental voice shouted, and Mason immediately fell to his stomach in the dirt. An arrow whizzed over his head and stuck into one of the Soldiers on the far side. The Soldier glanced down at his chest in shock as blood burbled around the wound. When no one moved to help him, Mason figured he wasn’t a good man and didn’t let guilt bother him.
“I believe you are the lesser man if you seek to shoot me in the back, Father.” Mason taunted, rising to his feet when Reed had given the all clear. He heard shuffling from where the arrow had originated, and his father’s lips twisted, but Mason didn’t look away from the High Commander.
“Fight me one-on-one, man-to-man, and we shall see who the stronger man is.” Mason made his tone loose as if he didn’t care whether he fought his father or not. His practiced indifference angered the High Commander. He wanted people to fear him or hate him. Anything was preferable to indifference because it robbed him of all his power.
“The King is bedding your woman as we speak, Son. He is pulling her bonding power from her and feeding it to his pet Sorcerer.” The High Commander mocked him as he approached slowly, preparing his muscles for battle. Mason didn’t need Reed to explain what he felt within the crowd. The men, whether they were faithful to his father or not, didn’t know about the Sorcerer. The uneasy muttering caused his father’s steps to falter as he realized what he had done.
Mason used the ignorance to his advantage. “When he is done with my woman, he will move to all of the women in the city,” Mason said, pitching his voice for every man to hear. “Every woman who is bonded, or has the potential to bond, will be drained of her power. What will happen to the men of Megreria then, Father?”
“Men do not need women to make them stronger.” Calum snarled and flew at Mason, his eyes flashing dangerously. Mason’s sword was ready, and he met his father’s strike easily. His father’s strength had been increased, though. The High Commander’s eyes briefly shone red, and Mason felt a moment of apprehension. The Sorcerer had gifted his father with power.
They danced around each other, Mason’s more powerful form combating his father’s grace and fleet feet. They dodged and parried, each of them unable to make contact with the other. The clang of their mighty broadswords hammering together sounded like a bell tolling. The sound carried farther than their small arena and echoed off the high walls surrounding them.
Mason withheld his energy, watching his father closely. He had sparred and trained with the High Commander and then studied him when the older man refused to fight with him anymore. He tried to discern what had changed, but Calum didn’t appear to be using magic. He was a little stronger, and he somehow held more influence over more men than he should.
The High Commander shot forward, faster this time, and the tip of his sword scored Mason’s leather bracers. The skin underneath remained intact, but Mason felt the impact vibrate in his bones. He grew more intent, meeting his father’s gaze. Calum’s pale eyes, so like his own, burned with rage.
“Your mother is dead,” his father spat when their swords locked in front of their faces. Mason faltered, surprised by the unexpected information. Calum capitalized on his distraction. Pain speared through him when a deep gash opened in his sword arm’s bicep. He barely glanced at the cut, though it stung mightily.
“How did she die?” Mason’s voice was deathly quiet. He pulled on the string between himself and his brother. Reed willingly gave him energy, muting the pain in his arm and the quivering of his muscles from holding the sword aloft.
The men surrounding them were deathly quiet. Mason had never encountered a fight that wasn’t punctuated by shouted encouragement or hollered bets, but the audience knew this wasn’t a game. One of them wouldn’t walk from this field, and the man left standing would control their Fate.
His father quirked his lips, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from
his brow. “I let the Sorcerer drain her.”
His father’s confession caused Mason to forget all his lessons; he let the rage take control. Instead of a red cloud covering his vision, however, his eyes sharpened. The battle slowed, and with Reed’s knowledge-gathering power flowing through his veins, he could predict every move. He met each thrust and struck quickly, making it appear as if he hardly exerted any effort. Thought fled his mind. His only focus was on the man before him. This beast who called himself his father had sacrificed his mother to a dark power. He would do the same to his sisters if they still lived, and the woman he loved. Such evil did not deserve to live. Mason was judgment and vengeance.
The first hints of fear entered the High Commander’s eyes as Mason relentlessly drove him backward, parrying every strike as if the older man moved in slow motion. Calum fell to the ground and Mason hesitated, his sword held before him, ready for the killing blow.
“You can’t do it. You’re just too damn noble. I don’t know how I ever called you son,” Calum jeered.
Mason’s lips tightened but not because of his father’s venomous words. “This is for my mother,” he growled and thrust his sword swiftly past his father’s guard. The massive weapon, propelled by Mason's enhanced strength, drove straight through the man’s body and struck the dirt beneath him.
Calum’s sword dropped, his eyes wide, and blood bubbled from his lips. His father smirked even as death claimed him. “The Sorcerer will eat your soul,” he rasped. Mason twisted the sword, and the last light fled his father’s eyes. He rose to his feet, turning in a circle to address the men around him.
“If any man still stands behind my father, knowing what the King has planned for the women in this city and the entire country, I suggest you run.” He lowered his voice to a feral growl, his muscles bulging and blood spilling down his arm. “Run far and run fast, because you will not be safe here. The new Queen will take the throne, and evil will no longer have a place in this nation.”
Harmony of Their Souls Page 18