Flameseeker (Book 3)

by R. M. Prioleau

  “How terrible,” Zarya said. “Who or what could have done this?”

  Aidan wrinkled his nose. “Aidan does not think those burns are natural.”

  “Because they’re not.” Kaijin rubbed the back of his neck. The sight and smell was similar to what he remembered of Easthaven. Za’thaak. When I find you, I will make you pay for this.

  Kaijin sensed something odd about the gates, a deadly kind of magic. Miele screeched in his mind, conveying concern. The charm beneath his robes burned his chest. Grunting, he grabbed his chest and squeezed a handful of his robes. “Master,” he began, looking to Jarial. “Do you—”

  “Yes, Kaijin, I can sense it,” Jarial said. He walked ahead of the group and held out his arms, barring the rest of them from proceeding. “And I can dispel it.”

  Percival, who was sitting on Omari’s shoulder, gave a wary squeak. Omari narrowed his eyes at the scene. “Is that ...”

  Nester whipped his head back and forth between Kaijin, Omari, and Jarial. “What? What is it? Some kinda fiddlin’?”

  Kaijin nodded to the brownie. “It is an invisasizzle spell. You can’t see it, but if you pass through the enchanted area—the entrance—you will receive terrible burns, and end up like them.” He gestured to the bodies.

  Nester blinked. “Soddin’ ’ells! Thanks for th’ warnin’ mate!”

  “They must have been caught by the spell when they tried to escape,” Zarya said.

  “Whoever is responsible, they obviously did not want anyone to leave or enter this city,” Omari said.

  “Whoever is responsible,” Jarial said, looking to Omari, “seems to also know transmutation magic.”

  Omari rubbed his chin. “Transmu—oh. Oh!”

  The invisasizzle spell was of the transmutation variety. Kaijin recalled the talk he and Jarial had had at the Pyre, where Jarial had speculated that Na’val’s murderer was associated with transmutation magic.

  Jarial ordered everyone to stay, including Sable, who had been sitting at his feet, and then he walked up to the gates. He stood but a breath away.

  Eyes wide, Kaijin yelled, “Master! Please be careful!” Jarial didn’t answer. Kaijin was ready to rush to him when he heard the man chanting a spell, which Kaijin immediately recognized.

  The enchantment around the entrance became visible, glowing a bright red. The red glow turned solid and shattered into tiny red fragments before disappearing.

  Jarial returned to the group. “It is all clear now. Let’s go.”

  Kaijin called for Miele and tucked her safely away in his haversack. The smoke was thick, and she would have not been able to see much from flying above.

  The group continued through the gates, unharmed. Jarial fell back and walked beside Kaijin while Omari walked ahead and took the lead.

  As the group followed Omari through the city, Kaijin noticed Nester eyeing their surroundings as if nervous. The brownie even drew his two daggers from the sheaths at his belt.

  Something twisted in Kaijin’s stomach, and he also looked around. “What’s wrong, Nester?”

  Nester scowled, his eyes still darting about. “I got this funny feelin’ I’m bein’ watched. An’ I don’t like bein’ watched if I can’t see th’ watcher!”

  Frowning, Kaijin discreetly focused on a protective spell, in case things got out of hand.

  Nester turned to Aidan, who had been bringing up the rear. “You can smell th’ blokes, can’t you, mate?”

  Aidan shook his head. “Aidan smells nothing but smoke, but Aidan does have funny feeling that he is being watched.”

  Miele shifted inside the haversack resting against Kaijin’s hip. Kaijin could feel her unease.

  A sea of frightened people were gathered in the city’s plaza by armed city guards, who tried to keep order in the midst of the commotion.

  Kaijin and his friends walked swiftly, bypassing the plaza. Between the breaks in the smoke, Kaijin noticed a large building sitting atop a plateau in the distance.

  Omari pointed toward it. “There. Tachus’s mansion. I have only been there once. It was the first time my father ever allowed me to go with him on his trips. I always remembered the way he described it: ‘The Beshara’s great castle on the hill, looking down on all their pawns’.”

  “Sounds ... narcissistic,” Jarial said flatly.

  “When you meet Tachus, you will understand why—” Omari grunted, his body jerked, and he grabbed the arrow sticking out of the upper left part of his chest, just below his shoulder.

  Everyone stopped. Kaijin’s feeling of being watched was stronger than ever. His heart pounded. “Omari?”

  Omari gave another grunt and crumpled to the ground. There was a loud squeal, and Percival wriggled out from under him.

  Zarya immediately began tending to Omari as they all gathered around him.

  Engraved on the arrow’s wooden shaft was the image of a firebird.

  * * *

  Aidan couldn’t smell the attacker, but he thought he saw a flicker of movement in the smoke above the rooftops.

  Aidan glanced to his downed comrade. Omari’s eyelids fluttered, and his breath came in ragged gasps. Blood seeped from the wound.

  “Stand back, everyone,” Zarya ordered. “I need room.” She grabbed the arrow, and a white glow emitted from her hand. With a steady hand, she carefully removed the arrow from his chest and set it aside.

  Nester swept around her and snatched it up. He stuck his tongue in his cheek as he examined it, turning the metallic tip in the light. “It’s poisoned, all right.”

  Jarial frowned. “Can you determine the type?”

  Nester shook his head. “Maybe desert rose. Or datura. Though there’s a li’l tint to it, in th’ blood. It’s a wee thick, so it could be scorpion or snake venom instead.”

  Zarya retrieved a small bottle of light blue liquid from her bag. She uncorked the bottle, poured half of its contents down Omari’s throat, and massaged his throat to force him to swallow. “Don’t worry, everyone,” Zarya assured them, not looking up from her work. “Omari will be all right now. Just give him time.”

  Aidan turned and scanned the rooftops again. There were some people huddled together on the tops of some of the burning buildings, while others were struggling to climb up. Whoever did this might have not gotten too far. There is still a chance to catch them.

  A distant shape, too agile to be any normal commoner, leapt across a rooftop, then disappeared again in the smoke. Aidan took off running. He turned down an alley and easily scaled the side of a building with his clawed hands. When he reached the top, he caught another glimpse of the figure through the smoke, three rooftops away. Aidan hustled to the edge of the roof he was on, peered ahead to the adjacent one, then down. It’s a long jump.

  He flexed his back and looked behind him at his wings. I wonder if they work? Aidan pondered. They must be useful for something. I guess there’s only one way to find out.

  Aidan stretched his wings, then leapt off the edge of the roof.

  He fell. His heart dropped in his gut.

  Shutting his eyes, he flapped his wings a few times, and he caught a wind current that lifted him up to the next building’s rooftop. He tumbled and landed face-first.

  Groaning, he crawled back on his feet and dusted himself off. That was ... interesting. He looked to the next rooftop and judged its distance. It seemed to be the same width as the last. He got a running start, and as he leapt from the edge, he stretched his wings so he glided to the other side.

  This time, he managed to land on his feet. He ran to the edge in time to see the figure running on the ground just below the building he was on.

  I can’t let him get away! “Stop!” Aidan yelled.

  The stranger, a male, stopped, turned, and shot his already-nocked arrow at Aidan. Then he took off running again.

  Aidan turned his body slightly and shielded himself with his wings. The arrow plunked off the back of them. Unshielding himself, Aidan peered at the assassin, who had beg
un gaining distance again.

  Aidan leapt from the rooftop and glided toward the man. He folded his wings slightly, drawing just enough air to give him a stronger forward thrust. He ripped through the air, and soon, Aidan caught up to the man and tackled him to the ground from behind. Pressing the smaller man to the ground by sitting on him, Aidan felt various lumps and sharp objects against the man’s hips. He seized the assassin by both arms and lifted them so any sudden torque would break the man’s arms. With his prey secure, Aidan tilted the man’s head back so he could get a glimpse.

  The lower part of the assassin’s face was covered with a dark red scarf, but the man’s eyes looked young. The assassin only struggled once in Aidan’s grasp. He grunted in pain and immediately stopped.

  The shadows near Aidan moved, and Nester suddenly appeared beside him, twin blades in hand. The brownie was panting, out of breath and coughing.

  “Aidan! S ... soddin’ ’ells! Were you ... really flyin’ back there? That ... was th’ most amazin’ thing ... I’ve ever seen, mate!” He settled, fixing his gaze on the assassin. “That th’ sneaky bloke?”

  Aidan nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure. “Aidan believes so. What should we do with him?”

  “Why, we’re gonna gut ’im of course. Make ’im bleed. String ’im up by ’is intestines an’ make ’im pay for ’urtin’ Omari.” He raised one of his daggers to the assassin’s abdomen, scowling. “Ain’t that right?”

  The assassin gave him a cold stare.

  Aidan grimaced. “No, Aidan has better idea.”

  “You’re gonna turn ’im into an ice statue?” Nester’s face lit up.

  “No! He is going to lead us to Tachus Beshara.” He grabbed a handful of the assassin’s hair and jerked his head to make the man look at him again. “Or else, Aidan might think about turning you into ice statue.”

  The man struggled again. Something made a cracking sound, and he winced and stopped.

  Nester rolled his eyes and groaned. “You’re too soddin’ nice, you know that? Fine. We’ll do it your way. At least let me get th’ others, first.”

  Aidan nodded, and Nester rushed off, disappearing in the shadows and smoke.

  XXX

  Tachus Beshara glared at the old man before him as he decided on the best course of action, after Vargas had reported that Amil was responsible for the attack on Zebi. The two of them had met in one of the mansion’s many private libraries—one with a massive window that overlooked much of the city below, where white smoke lingered.

  Vargas gave him a low bow at the waist. “You should do something about this before your city is engulfed in panic. Many will die.” His dark eyes twinkled.

  He finds that amusing? Tachus sneered. I will deal with him once I am done with Amil. “I have already sent Masrah and his group to investigate and kill any of those Batsuyou scum who are responsible for this retaliation. This was a bold move on Amil’s part, attacking me outright like this. And in my own city, no less!”

  “But is it any surprise? You did order Omari Batsuyou’s death.”

  “It was a justifiable death,” Tachus argued. “He was favored to be the next Councilmember instead of Saris. Omari has no skill. No discipline. He would have made a mockery out of the Council if he were to ever ascend.” He paused and hardened his gaze. “I appreciate your relaying this message to me. Now, about my sister ...”

  Vargas exhaled. “What about her?”

  “I asked you in my last letter to bring her back.”

  “With all due respect, Shak’ha, Ranaiah was stubborn and refused to leave, even when I told her of your ire.”

  Tachus growled. Damnable woman! I will bring you back here myself if I must!

  He could sense that Vargas was hiding something more. “What other news do you have?”

  A small smile crept up from beneath Vargas’s white beard. “There is but one more thing. I must humbly resign from your employment.”

  Tachus arched an eyebrow, surprised by the man’s boldness.

  “I have done all that you have asked, to the best of my ability. Now it’s time you dealt with this issue yourself.”

  A frantic knock came at the library’s door.

  Tachus looked to the door, then exchanged a glance with Vargas. Frowning, Tachus approached the door and opened it a crack. A robed guard, breathing heavily, stood outside, looking nervous.

  The guard gave a swift, low bow. “Honored Shak’ha, there is a group of people demanding to see you.”

  Tachus lifted an eyebrow. “What? Who are these people?”

  The guard shook his head. “Strangers. Foreigners. Though one of them looks familiar. There is also a half-breed amongst them. They have captured Masrah and will not release him until they speak to you.”

  Tachus blinked. A half-breed? Here? Most half-breeds in Ankhram lived underground, and it was rare to see one wandering the surface.

  He nodded curtly to the guard. “I will be out shortly. Have them wait in the meeting hall.”

  The guard bowed again and bolted.

  Tachus looked back at Vargas.

  The old man’s eyes flashed with fire before returning to normal. “He’s here,” he muttered.

  Something in Vargas’s voice didn’t sound as if the man had spoken himself. Tachus sensed something lingering in Vargas. He concentrated, trying to look deep within him. Though he could not physically see the unknown presence, he felt it. Something sinister. A divine power tinged with an evil presence.

  The presence blocked Tachus from looking deeper.

  Vargas ... Who—what has taken hold of you? He eyed Vargas suspiciously. “What is it you are hiding from me, Vargas?”

  Vargas looked up, appearing startled. “What? I am hiding nothing.”

  “Do you know who those people are who are ‘demanding’ to see me?”

  “No, I do not.”

  Tachus faced Vargas head-on and tried to feel out the strange presence again, but it seemed gone from him. Perhaps Vargas was masking it. “Are you toying with me, Vargas?”

  “Not at all, Shak’ha.”

  Exhaling though his nose, Tachus spun on his heel. I do not have time for this. “I want answers, Vargas, and I am going to get them. Come with me.”

  He exited, expecting Vargas to follow, but the man remained where he stood.

  Tachus stared at him, dumbfounded. “You dare disobey me?”

  Vargas pursed his lips, then—lowering his head, remaining silent—he followed Tachus out of the library into the marble hallway.

  I will find out what he is hiding soon enough.

  As they walked toward the meeting hall, Vargas broke the silence. “You are making a mistake, you know. Dragging me along like this.”

  “Am I, now?” Tachus said, not looking at him.

  “Something will happen if you do not set me free.”

  “If that was meant to be a threat, then it was a poor and foolish attempt. I will see that you spend many long days and nights in a cell for your insolence.”

  Vargas said nothing more.

  They arrived in the grand meeting hall, where eight guards kept watch over the six waiting strangers. The half-breed, the largest of the group, had the assassin, Masrah seized by his arms. Masrah locked his pleading gaze with Tachus’s as he entered the room. The guards stared fearfully at the half-breed, but they kept their swords aimed at him.

  Tachus approached the group slowly, assessing each member. His gaze settled on a young man who was tall, lean, with a clean-shaven head. The young man’s brown eyes locked on Tachus.

  Tachus nearly gasped. He knew him. There was no doubt how much he looked like his father. And he was alive? Tachus seethed. “Omari.”

  * * *

  Kaijin’s eyes settled on Tachus when he entered the room. So that is Ranaiah’s brother. The faces showed similarity, and even the confident way he walked reminded Kaijin of her. He was definitely older than Ranaiah.

  Kaijin’s mouth tasted bitter as he scanned the mass
ive golden room with its high skylighted ceilings. He felt as if he were being watched. Even Miele, currently resting on his shoulder, shuddered in discomfort.

  “We still haven’t seen Vargas. Is he here? Is Za’thaak here? Did we arrive too late?”

  He paused his mental conversation with his familiar when Omari, eyes wide with rage, stepped forward to confront Tachus, but a guard prodded his sword against his chest. He stopped and backed up to his original spot. Percival, who sat on his shoulder, bared his fangs at Tachus. Omari clenched his hands into fists. “Tachus Beshara, your crimes will—oof!”

  Jarial had elbowed Omari hard in his solar plexus, and Omari doubled over with the wind knocked out of him.

  “No!” Jarial muttered to him. “We are not here to make unproven accusations. We are here to learn the facts.”

  Omari held his midsection, then coughed.

  “Please, don’t stop him,” Tachus said with a wave of his hand. “I would like very much to know what sort of nonsense this boy is blathering about.”

  Jarial looked around at the guards then to Tachus. “If you may, honored Shak’ha, order your guards to stand down so that we may speak civilly.”

  Tachus arched an eyebrow. “I think not. The lot of you come marching here with my cousin, Masrah, making demands, and apparently”—he pointed his nose up at Omari—“making threats.”

  “Masrah was captured due to his assassination attempt on Omari,” Jarial said.

  Omari caught his breath and muttered, “Not once, but twice.”

  There was a long pause. Tachus, keeping a straight face, finally said, “I will order my guards to stand down, only if you release Masrah. And then we will talk further.”

  “Release ’im? Why? ’E tried to chalk Omari, ’e did!” Nester said. Then he turned to Jarial. “Don’t do it, mate. It’s probably a trap.”

  Jarial, not appearing to be listening to Nester, turned to Aidan, who was still holding the assassin, and nodded to him. “Let him go, Aidan.”