Amber spoke, “Please don’t hurt her. We’ll follow you.” Sam and Tig nodded their assent. Sam pulled the mask from the top of his head, no longer wanting to play dress up. The group worked their way through the castle. Lyka led them through a deserted back hallway and exited the main castle onto a covered walkway. Lights from the front drive were visible until they entered a garage.
They made their way past numerous vehicles, finally arriving at a white paneled delivery van. “Gregor!” Finias called out when the garage appeared to be completely empty. The rear doors of the van burst open and a man approached them, obviously Finias’ brother, by the looks of him.
“Quickly,” he rasped as he scurried around to the driver’s seat.
The crone moved Jessie, still at knife point, to the end of the van. She backed up through the double doors, roughly dragging Jessie inside with her. There was a crate directly behind the driver’s seat. The old woman sat on it, forcing Jessie to sit on the floor.
“Everyone in,” Finias directed. “Sit with your backs against the walls.”
“What do you want with us? Where are you taking us?” Tig asked eyeing the old crone.
“Shut up and get in. Keep asking stupid questions and I will instruct my friend here to kill the woman.” Finias’s voice was calm, barely raised.
“No! We’ll go,” Amber said, “please don’t hurt her.”
“Get in and be quiet. If anyone raises an alarm, she will be the first to die. I'm sure you wouldn’t want that.” The three kids nodded their heads in agreement, dutifully stepping up into the back of the windowless vehicle.
“Gregor, go. Don’t stop for anything. We’ll meet you there.” Finias and Lyka pushed open the double garage doors, being careful to stay out of sight.
Gregor pulled out slowly, checking to make sure they hadn’t drawn any undue attention. He checked the GPS that Lyka had set up on the dashboard, the path clearly displayed on the screen. The men at the stone gate waved him through, obviously more concerned with traffic entering than with those exiting.
The group sat in uncomfortable silence. Once the van cleared the gate, the old crone relaxed her death grip on Jessie’s hair, allowing her to scoot closer to the kids. The outside air was cold and Gregor had not been considerate enough to turn on the heater. Amber started to shiver noticeably, her bare back pressed against the metal van wall. Tig noticed and offered her his jacket. The sleeves were short, but otherwise it fit just fine. Sam noticed the exchange and pulled off his coat for Jessie. The crone didn’t say a word, just watched them intently for any trickery. The four hostages pulled together for warmth and exchanged worried glances.
The van traveled along winding roads, finally slowing and turning onto a gravel road. A few minutes later, the van stopped and Gregor opened his window. He gave instructions to someone and another vehicle roared to life close by. The van bumped along for a few more minutes and pulled to a stop. Gregor stepped out and opened the back doors, leaving the engine running and the lights on. A cold blast of air reminded the occupants that the outside air temperature was falling.
“Out!” the crone instructed. She had pulled out her knife and grabbed Jessie roughly by the hair again. “Remember. No trouble,” she warned. “This way.” The crone gave Jessie’s hair a violent yank and led the group up wide steps at the base of a platform.
“Where are we?” Sam was unable to contain his curiosity.
“Welcome to The Crux,” the crone said, mostly to herself.
Having made their way to the top of the platform, a pattern painted in white could be seen on the floor. An equilateral triangle, twenty feet on a side, had been drawn on top of another inverted equilateral triangle of the same size. The triangles appeared to be perfectly centered on the platform and formed a six-sided star. At each outside point, three foot diameter circles were drawn.
In the dead center of the triangles stood a mirror, framed in polished black steel. The steel was ornately etched with symbols and securely bolted to the platform. The mirror was ten feet wide, fifteen feet tall and made of thick glass.
A dark green Humvee pulled up and stopped beside the van. Finias Blackhall and Lyka Parnassus jumped out, opening the back doors for a young woman and, to Amber’s great surprise, Ardt Fenhall. Ardt made eye contact with Amber and Sam, clearly surprised as well. At Tig’s questioning glance, Sam leaned over and explained, “A riding competitor of Amber’s.”
The new arrivals left the Humvee running with its headlights pointing at the platform. They climbed the stairs and joined the group already on top.
“Thank you all for joining us this fine evening,” Finias started. “There was a time when I didn’t believe we would be able to accomplish all of this, but here we are, on the verge of greatness. I see our friends from Colorado have made it safely; a wise choice.” Finias looked with satisfaction at Jessie and then to Sam and Amber.
Jessie, still held by the old crone, bravely interjected, “Please, let us go.”
“Soon enough, my good woman. Soon enough. Kestra, would you please take the Elendahl women over to the side so they are out of my way?”
Kestra, the tattooed woman who’d arrived with Finias, pulled out a long bladed knife that glinted in the glare from the headlights. She stepped over to Jessie and grabbing her by the arm, pulled the woman away from the crone and walked her several yards away from the main group. She said quietly, “Call your daughter over to join us. He will not hurt you if you do as he says.” Jessie complied and Amber joined them.
“Where are my manners?” Finias lifted his arms and pronounced “Foci Trunda.” Several six-foot-tall stands holding large copper bowls, erupted in flame, washing the platform in light.
“What is this place?” Sam mused quietly, momentarily lost in thought as he stared around at the intricately designed space.
Finias caught the utterance, “Ah, young Elendahl, an astute question. Although a better question might have been ‘Where is this’?”
Even with all the stress and fear, Sam was still intrigued and he looked at Finias with wide eyes, “Where? I don’t follow.”
“You will soon.” Finias’s eyes had an evil glint to them, but Sam was too busy trying to make sense of the cryptic conversation to recognize the danger. “Gregor, Lyka, show our young Fenhall where to stand and then take your places. Elendahl, Parnassus, each of you take a position in one of the circles. Remember, no heroics. The Elendahl women look so nice in their evening gowns, it would be a shame to change that.” Finias looked menacingly at Amber and Jessie.
Sam and Tig exchanged confused glances but walked to open circles at the points of the triangles, leaving a single open circle.
Finias continued, “Do not step outside of the circle in which you stand until I have completed the incantation. Suffice it to say that would be dangerous.”
“Payment, Blackhall. I have completed your task.” The old woman spoke up in her raspy voice.
“You have one remaining task and you know to what I refer. You can meet me on the other side once this is complete and I will provide your payment.” Finias locked eyes with her until she broke eye contact, defeated.
He stepped into the remaining circle. “Remember, do not exit your circle or great harm will befall you.” Having provided his final warning, Finias pulled from under his long cloak two black stones, holding one in each hand. He started chanting in an unrecognizable tongue.
Bright blue jagged arcs of electricity stretched along the lines that had been carefully painted on the floor. Where the lines of light crossed, sparks exploded as if two high powered electrical cables had been crossed.
Blue arcs jumped randomly from the edges of the circles into the mirror in the center of it all. As Finias continued chanting, the frequency of the arcs increased, always disappearing into the mirror. Lines converged and strengthened until the flashes were almost gone. Several minutes later, solid blue electrical arcs formed along each of the six circles and terminated in the mirror.
Finias’s voice rose to a fever pitch and he still held the two black stones. With great effort he pulled his arms down and each of the unwilling participants dropped their arms, too. All at once, Finias smashed the rocks together. Instantly, the flow reversed and energy surged from the cloud, back through the bodies and into the mirror. With a loud pop, the cloud was gone and everything stopped.
The mirror had changed. What had once been a reflective surface, now looked like a picture of a snowy meadow in broad daylight. The light from the picture flooded out, illuminating the platform brightly.
“Incredible.” Finias was unable to contain his elation. For a moment he stood still, admiring his accomplishment.
T Minus 20
“We’re almost home free, my friend," Finias said to Lyka Parnassus. "Would you mind bringing up the truck?” He waited until Lyka walked away and said, “Gregor, let me explain how this is going to work. Lyka and I have a small trip to take. And, unfortunately, there’s been a terrible accident. You have a choice; it's a difficult one, so you should listen carefully.”
Lyka drove a pickup truck that had been parked in the clearing up onto the platform, backing it up so that its tail gate was near the framed picture. The truck was loaded with wooden crates and soft-sided packs. To everyone’s surprise Lyka started throwing packs from the back of the truck at the image. Instead of bouncing off, the packs flew into it, landing in the snowy field.
“Where indeed?” Sam muttered to himself.
“What sort of accident?” Gregor asked suspiciously.
“That's a great question. It appears that large cash withdrawals and loans were made in your name to construct this fantastic platform. Unfortunately, the platform is about to be destroyed in a tremendous explosion, with dynamite also purchased on your construction account. Investigators are sure to find a suicide note explaining your actions and why you ended up taking the lives of so many fine people.”
Gregor’s attempts to interrupt his brother were unsuccessful. “No wait, Gregor, hear the entire thing before you speak. I am giving you the choice to go up in a ball of flame with everyone here or you can start running now and save yourself. You will certainly be spared the explosion, but you will be hunted by a cadre of investigators. So, I leave it up to you and I need to add, time is of the essence.”
Lyka had completed throwing the packs out of the truck and was hunched over the wooden boxes, concentrating on something.
“Are you crazy?” Gregor asked, now certain of the answer. “Now, I’m your patsy?”
“Call it what you must brother, but you have roughly twenty seconds to clear the area. There is enough dynamite in the back of that truck to level a city block. Accept your fate and make a choice. Oh, and if any of you decide to try and follow us into the portal, I have left my dear friend here to prevent that,” Finias nodded toward the old crone. “Kestra, it is time for you to choose. Follow me or return to your life here in this world. You’ll want to leave the platform one way or the other. ”
The old crone, having heard Finias’s instructions, positioned herself next to the portal. She looked back at the two women she was guarding and uttered a quick spell. As her hands waved menacingly toward Jessie and Amber, roots wrapped tightly around their legs, all the way up to their knees.
Lyka called, “T-Minus twenty seconds! I’m headed in.” He jumped from the back of the truck into the mirror, appearing instantly on the snowy field.
Gregor turned and ran from the platform. Ardt Fenhall, who’d slowly been backing up toward the edge of the platform to escape, followed suit.
“Make sure everyone else stays on the platform, Crone. When the counter hits five, follow us in. They will not have enough time to escape the blast,” Finias whispered to the old woman as he stepped into the portal and onto the snow. Cruelly, Lyka had positioned the count-down timer so that it was visible to all of the platform’s remaining occupants.
“Sam! Run!” Jessie shouted, trying desperately to free Amber from the vines.
Kestra sprinted toward the portal, having made her choice. The crone leaned to one side to allow the fleeing woman to enter. Unexpectedly, however, Kestra did not directly enter the portal. Instead, she threw her weight into the off-balanced crone, causing both of them to tumble through.
“Run.” Jessie, unable to move, couldn’t bear to see her children perish.
“No!” Sam was frozen momentarily, seeing that his family couldn’t possibly escape the explosion in time. He could run, but he wouldn’t be able to free Amber and his mom. There was no way he was okay with that.
And then an idea hit him with such clarity that he sprang into action. He looked up at the timer, sixteen seconds left. He needed more time. Sam sprinted from his position to the truck, flung the driver’s side door open and jumped behind the wheel. His hands searched for the ignition, nothing! He ran his hands along the top of the seat beside him and then over the sun visor. Still nothing!
He flipped his head around. Eight seconds, there wasn't enough time. Sam pushed the clutch in and pulled the vehicle out of gear, jumping from the truck and scurrying around to the front, screaming at Tig who had just arrived. “Push! Help me!” Sam grabbed the front bumper of the vehicle and felt it give way. Tig leaned in next to him and the boys strained against the truck's weight. It started rolling. Short seconds seemed like an eternity.
They didn’t stop pushing until their feet were solidly on the snow covered ground. Sam looked at Tig and mouthed ‘thank you,’ fully expecting it to be his last living action. The boys slid down in front of the truck, defeated in their success. The end was surely imminent.
The Edge of Reason
A glance through the portal had shown Kestra a snow-packed meadow with trees visible up the hill on the right. She knew what she had to do. Blackhall had gone too far. Surprise would give her a few seconds of advantage, but that was all. She hit the crone with all the force she had. The two tumbled into the portal.
The old hag couldn't keep her balance, but Kestra’s lithe frame deflected nicely off the witch. Her body instinctively curved into a perfect roll and she popped back up to her feet, running full out toward the trees before her mind caught up with her body’s movements.
***
The crone was stunned by the full-body tackle that launched her through the portal. The female elf’s behavior was crazy, nonsensical and erratic - definitely a wyrdling. She picked herself up and dusted off the snow. Finias and Lyka had walked off to retrieve their packs and now turned in her direction.
“What is the meaning of this?” Finias looked first at Kestra’s fleeing form and then to the old crone.
The crone replied, “Your wyrdling appears to have turned against you, Blackhall. She caught me off guard and forced me through the portal well before the appointed time.”
“What of the princes? What of them?” Finias’ voice had lost its calm, controlled cadence and edged toward desperation.
“The outcome will be the same, Prince Blackhall, unless the two boys were willing to abandon the woman and her daughter. Something tells me their miserable morals wouldn’t allow that.” The crone sneered in contempt, imagining Tig, Sam, Jessie and Amber huddling together in their final moments, too noble to make the necessary sacrifices.
Finias growled threateningly, “You do understand those boys have to die? None of this works if …”
His warning was cut short as the pickup truck, filled with dynamite, suddenly appeared in the middle of the field. Finias, Lyka, and the crone jumped aside to avoid being crushed.
Lyka dropped his pack and sprinted downhill, attempting to put as much distance between himself and th
e impending explosion as possible. He knew it was futile, but it was his only real chance.
Finias exclaimed, “What sort of idiocy is this?” His face was red with anger, “How is this possible!? Must I do everything myself?" Finias looked at the truck and then to the crone, “You imbecile!”
The old crone stepped toward Finias, “Listen here, Blackhall! You are now on my turf and I should think you’d want me as your ally. Do not blame me for your ridiculous plans. Pay me now.”
Sam and Tig, still leaning against the truck, looked at each other as they listened to the exchange between the crone and Finias Blackhall. Tig raised an eyebrow and pantomimed an explosion after which he shrugged his shoulders questioningly. Sam returned the shrug and for the moment they decided to sit tight, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention.
Finias stared hard at the crone, his eyes black with rage, his voice mocking, “Pay you? Are you serious? Have you correctly done one single thing I’ve asked? I would sooner spill the phials on the ground before paying for such incompetence.”
Finias took two menacing steps forward, his face within a foot of the crone’s, “You forget who you are talking to, old woman.” As he spoke, her hand shot up as if to strike him but his own reflexes were too fast as he caught her arm and held it tightly. “Credo,” he shouted into her face and as he did, her back bent slightly and her hair turned grey with a few black wisps, wrinkles and age spots returned to her face.
“No, my Lord! No, please!” she begged, sinking to her knees, broken.
Finias let go of her, “Leave me, wretched beast. I have no use for the likes of you. If you dare show your face again, I will not be so kind.” The hag stood and set off at a slow pace for the mountains, a noticeable limp beneath her black cloak.
Lyka had stopped his panicked sprint, but now stood unmoving, watching Finias from forty feet away. He had a very confused look on his face. “What of the explosion?” he yelled. Finias didn’t immediately answer, but waved at Lyka to move closer. Lyka was reluctant, but as substantially more than twenty seconds had elapsed, he figured it was safe to return. Lyka also knew that Finias wouldn’t be standing there if an explosion were imminent. He jogged back to where Finias stood looking into the back of the truck at the countdown display. It was blank, as if someone had removed the batteries.
Lesser Prince (Guardians of Gaeland Book 1) Page 13