Linkershim sotsi-6

by David A. Wells

  “So … tell me, Princess, how does it feel to hold the fate of the world in your hands?”

  Lacy looked at him without responding.

  Good, Isabel thought, continuing to eat.

  “Surely, you of all people understand that Zuhl is unstoppable,” Phane said.

  Lacy seemed ready to speak but held her tongue at the last moment.

  Isabel picked up a roasted bird leg and took a big bite.

  “His army is beyond us all,” Phane said. “But you could defeat him … right now … and it wouldn’t cost you a thing. In fact, I would defend Fellenden with all of my power and name your family Protectors of the Realm. You cannot hope to do better.”

  Isabel stopped eating, looking pointedly at Lacy.

  She gritted her teeth, leaning toward Isabel. “I know,” she said, then turned back to Phane.

  “I’m not going to open that box. Not later today, not tomorrow, not ever.”

  Isabel nodded to herself, taking another bite from her roasted bird leg.

  “We’ll see,” Phane said. “You are of secondary importance right now. Watch and learn who I am and what I have to offer … then make your decision.”

  “Do I really have a choice?” Lacy asked.

  “No,” Phane said, “not really.”

  “Then out with it,” Lacy said. “What do you want?”

  “I want my birthright, just as I imagine you want yours,” Phane said. “You are a princess, noble by blood, and that deserves respect-respect that I’m willing to pay … provided that you recognize me as the rightful Reishi Sovereign. Only together can we stand against Zuhl.”

  Lacy sat stone-still, almost charmed by Phane’s words until Wren started giggling under her breath, dispelling his carefully woven lie with simple incredulity, sending him stomping away from the table with the box and leaving the three of them laughing under their breath.

  Isabel knew that their little victory would come at a cost, but she relished it just the same. “We won’t have much time,” she said. “I hope you’re serious about that box. If you open it, the world will die.”

  “I know-I’ll never open that box,” Lacy said, “but Phane has other ways of getting inside it.”

  “Indeed I do,” he said, sauntering back into the room from his Wizard’s Den without any hint of ire. He sat back down and refilled his flagon with wine.

  “Let’s talk about power, shall we?” he said, holding up the slaver’s ring on his finger and tapping it gently. Lacy and Wren both began to choke, struggling to breathe while Phane watched them like bugs in a jar.

  “Stop it!” Isabel said.

  Phane tapped the ring again and the collars relaxed, leaving Lacy and Wren gasping and coughing. Phane smiled at their discomfort, waiting patiently for them to regain their composure.

  “I own you … both of you belong to me now. I have all of the power and you have none. Obey or suffer. Those are the new terms of your lives. Do you understand?”

  They both nodded timidly.

  “Excellent,” Phane said. “Now, I’m going to explain the state of the world in the hopes that you, Princess Lacy, will come to see that you’ve picked the wrong side.” He raised his hand to forestall her protest. “Listen before you answer. I rule Karth outright. Andalia is openly loyal to me. Most of the islands of Tyr are under my control. The Ruathan Army is fighting the Lancers to a stalemate and they’re about to be blindsided by Elred Rake from the north-he’ll deliver a crushing blow, I assure you. The tide will turn against Ruatha after that, forcing those loyal to my dear cousin to retreat into Glen Morillian where they will remain.”

  Isabel listened to Phane, hoping beyond hope that Alexander was watching, yet knowing that he probably wasn’t.

  “Ithilian has been taken by the Sin’Rath, as has your brother,” Phane continued. “You will receive no more support from Abel, and Torin is quite beyond your reach. Zuhl has put his ships to sea with great success, never wavering from his objective of capturing the Iron Oak Forest and Fellenden with it. Your people are battered and broken, most are refugees, scattered and displaced. However this war turns out, they will be impoverished by it.

  “I’m going to win, Lacy. I’m going to rule over all of the Seven Isles. Isabel’s faith in her husband is admirable, but what she fails to accept is that Alexander is wearing one of those slave collars around his neck right now as we speak. He’s already lost. It’s too late for him, but it’s not too late for you, or for Fellenden.”

  Lacy shook her head.

  “I’m offering you salvation, Lacy. You can be the Queen of Fellenden; you can rule as you see fit. You can protect your people from the famine and suffering that will befall them without my help.”

  “I’m not going to help you,” Lacy said. “Not ever.”

  “Just remember that I offered you every chance,” Phane said, turning away from her as if she no longer existed.

  “Wizard Enu’s death was a setback,” he said to Isabel. “His spell to separate you from your will was brilliant. With him gone, I’m left with few options. I could try to create a potion or charm, but the simplest plan would probably be to re-create Enu’s spell.”

  “Take your time,” Isabel said.

  “Even after all this,” he said, gesturing to the bruising that discolored her entire face and left her eyes puffy, “you insist on being flippant. When are you going to learn to respect me?”

  “When you do something worthy of respect,” Isabel said, holding his eyes with hers until he walked away from the table, shaking his head.

  “I suppose I could always send an assassin to kill the fairy,” he mused.

  “What makes you think you’ll get anywhere near Chloe without Alexander seeing you coming?” Isabel said.

  “Not Chloe … what’s her name? The child fairy.”

  “Sara?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Why? What’s she got to do with any of this?”

  Phane laughed at her, shaking his head in disgust as he sat back down and took a long pull from his wine flagon.

  “I’m fighting children! None of you have even a basic knowledge of magic … and I even told you how it works.”

  “How what works?”

  “Your link to the realm of light flows through Sara,” Phane said. “If I kill her, your link goes away and Azugorath will have her way with you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Isabel said, knowing full well that he certainly would dare if he thought he could get away with it. “Ilona would stop you.”

  “Unfortunately, I believe you’re right on that second count,” Phane said. “That leaves Enu’s spell-two, maybe three days lost to re-create it. I was hoping to avoid that.”

  Isabel held her tongue while her mind spun. Pieces were starting to fall into place. If killing Sara would close her link to the realm of light, then banishing Rankosi should close her link to the netherworld. She could be free of the darkness … permanently.

  There was a way. Not an easy way to be sure, but there was a way.

  “This cursed isle is almost totally devoid of wizards,” Phane said. “I had the Andalians send me Enu, and now he’s dead, like most of the others they sent. Understandably, they’re not happy about the situation, but I think I have a solution that will please them.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of the shade?” Isabel asked, ignoring his musings.

  He frowned for a moment, then smiled. “Not really. He’ll try to take me but he’ll fail. Then he’ll try to kill me, and he’ll fail again. Then, he’ll get frustrated and make a mistake. When he does, I’ll press him into service.”

  “How? He’s already in the world. What can you possibly offer him?”

  “The shades have unseemly appetites that can be leveraged … but enough about them. I’m trying to explain how thoroughly you’ve already lost this war and how futile your resistance really is.

  “I’m going to capture your wizards one by one and strip them of their magic, bestowing th
eir power upon candidates from within my forces who demonstrate exceptional aptitude and loyalty. Your Wizards Guild will be diminished while mine is increased-yet another path to victory.

  “Speaking of which, I just got a report from Hector’s expedition. They’ve reached the swamp. It shouldn’t be long now.”

  “That swamp might just eat them alive.”

  “Face it, Isabel, you’ve lost … on every front. You’re just prolonging the inevitable. I’ve cultivated so many paths to victory that I can’t help but win. For example, I have a company of my best trackers hunting Trajan. He’s fled to the northern jungles.”

  “Good luck tracking him in there,” Isabel said.

  “Admittedly a challenge, but well worth the resources I’ve committed.” Phane shook his head incredulously. “Don’t you see, I have a plan to win, many plans, in fact … and you don’t. You’ve never had a chance against me. I set my plans into motion within days of waking from my long sleep. I have vast resources working toward my objectives … whole island kingdoms waging war by my command. You are a prisoner. Your husband is a prisoner. All is lost. Surrender. I will be merciful.”

  Isabel couldn’t help but laugh, looking Phane right in the face past her swollen eyelids and bruised cheeks. “You mean like this?”

  Lacy and Wren looked down at the table.

  “You deserved that and you know it,” Phane said, pointing his finger at her face. “Anyone else who did what you did would be dead or dying very badly right now. A beating was lenient. In fact, you may well suffer additional punishment at my whim.”

  “You call that mercy?”

  “In your case, yes,” Phane said, standing abruptly. “The three of you will remain on these estate grounds until I return in a few days. We’ll continue this conversation once I’ve mastered Enu’s spell.”

  He left them without another word.

  “What happens then?” Lacy asked.

  “According to Phane’s plan, I’ll kill Wren, then feel so guilty about it that I’ll embrace the netherworld and help Phane kill my husband.”

  “That’s insane,” Lacy said.

  “I know, but given the circumstances, it’s not entirely implausible,” Isabel said, continuing to explain her situation with Azugorath in as much detail as she could. Lacy listened with intent horror, shaking her head from time to time while Isabel detailed her entanglement with the Wraith Queen.

  “So, if this demon gains control, she’ll make you kill Wren,” Lacy said.

  “That’s Phane’s plan,” Isabel said. Then she looked at Wren. “That’s why I sent you away earlier than planned. Wizard Enu succeeded in casting his spell, but fortunately, you were out when Azugorath took control of me.”

  “So what do we do now?” Lacy asked.

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Isabel said. “Those collars complicate things.”

  They spent the better part of the next two days talking, first about Phane and his strategies and his lies, but then about more mundane things, like their childhoods, their friends and family, their hopes for the future.

  Despite Isabel’s first impression, she came to like Lacy, but that didn’t change her assessment of her-the princess was in over her head. But then, Isabel had to remind herself how inexperienced she’d been the day she left Glen Morillian with Alexander not so very long ago.

  Lacy had come far, especially considering her burden, but she couldn’t hold her own in a fight and that would be a problem. What’s more, Lacy knew it, confessing that she wished she could go back in time and learn how to fight.

  Isabel tried to remain upbeat with her two friends but inwardly she was facing a kind of doom marching inexorably toward her with every passing moment. Phane would cast the spell and Azugorath would assert her will.

  Wren would die.

  Isabel didn’t know if her soul could withstand what would come next.

  After the first two days, after they’d said all they had to say and fell silent, the tension began to build. Every passing moment ratcheted up Isabel’s anxiety, fear gripping her in a way she’d never felt before, not during the mana fast, nor while she carried the Goiri bone, not ever.

  She was going to kill Wren.

  A glimpse of the kind of guilt such a thought evoked was enough to send a thrill of panic coursing through her.

  She jumped when the door opened. Phane stood in the doorway, savoring their fear … that was all it took for Isabel to regain control. In a moment, she remembered her training at the fortress island and detached herself emotionally so she could face her enemy with a clear head.

  He seemed more smug than usual-not a good sign.

  “It’s time,” he said, closing the door loudly, causing all three of them to jump again. “I’ve learned Enu’s spell.”

  The moment closed in around Isabel. She was out of options. Wren was forfeit. She summoned her anger, building it quickly before muttering the words she’d remembered by rote to help her mind focus on seeing the results she desired. Light, bright and hot, streaked from her hand and hit Phane’s shield right in front of his chest, dissipating in a scintillating display of color.

  “Run!” Isabel shouted.

  “Not so fast,” Phane said, touching his slave-master’s ring and dropping both Lacy and Wren to their knees, gasping for air. He released them after watching them struggle for several seconds. They gasped for air, each breaking into a fit of coughing.

  “I really like these,” he said. “I’ll have to have the Babachenko send more.”

  Isabel started to get up, but he pushed her back into her chair with his magic, holding her in place while he cast a spell. She tried to brace for it, tried to resist, but it came over her like a wave, separating her body from her free will, leaving her totally vulnerable. Azugorath seized the opportunity, flooding into Isabel’s psyche with all of her hate and bile.

  “Finally,” the Wraith Queen said, standing triumphantly in full possession of Isabel, looking down on Wren without pity. “Is this the pittance you want killed?”

  “Yes,” Phane said.

  Lacy staggered to her feet and bolted forward, launching herself headlong into Isabel’s midsection and crashing to the ground on top of her, then she rolled to the side a moment later, struggling to breathe past the slave collar’s constriction.

  “Don’t try my patience, Princess. You are not nearly as valuable to me as Isabel is.” He left her writhing on the floor, strangling.

  “Please. Kill her quickly,” Phane said.

  Azugorath approached Wren. Isabel could hear the words of her light-lance spell begin to form in her mind. She saw her hand raise toward Wren, heard her lips breathe life into the words of the spell, but then Wren did something that surprised everyone … she started singing.

  Not the timid, under-her-breath singing that always made Isabel smile, but loud, full-throated, unabashed song shouted to the sky with passion and pure joy. The kind of song that calls forth thunderous applause. Her voice rose and fell, holding every note without rush, as if in that moment, her greatest purpose was to fill the room with music.

  Isabel watched through stolen eyes and was in awe.

  Wren had chosen her favorite song and was delivering a masterful performance, so much so that Phane and even Azugorath both seemed stunned by it, neither seemingly able to put what they were seeing and hearing into a context that they could comprehend.

  Isabel understood perfectly. She reached for the veil shrouding the light and met it with love for Wren, love for her music, love for Alexander, and love for life itself. She didn’t struggle with it, or fight it, or rail against it, or confront the veil in any way. Instead, she simply held all of the love she could muster up to it, and the realm of light responded. At first, just a glimmer shined through, but moments later, life-giving light flooded into her psyche … and then it was gone. Azugorath had pulled back again, choosing to defend the veil blocking Isabel’s connection to the realm of light over maintaining control.

  �
�I know how to fight you now, Phane,” Isabel said, turning to face him.

  “One battle does not win the war,” he said, motioning to Lacy and releasing her collar. “Next time, I’ll gag your little friend before I hand you over to Azugorath.”

  He left the room, whistling a tune.

  Chapter 29

  Alexander smiled when he saw the ruins of the Lancers’ forward operating base, still burning and spewing soot into the air. Plans in the west of Andalia were going well. The people remaining in the western province had taken to the Old Law with enthusiasm, then taken to the battlefield to defend it. Lancer fortifications were on fire all along the boundary between the western forest and the plains. Talia had leveraged two hundred Rangers and eight Sky Knights into an insurgent army of well over three thousand militiamen.

  That small army had launched its first major offensive during the night, attacking every significant Lancer position along the border with fire, then withdrawing and regrouping, moving north to prepare for the primary objective.

  Over the coming days the militia would move along the north coast, taking one seaport after another, but never attacking the shipwrights, instead offering them jobs farther west, then burning the docks, the shipyards and the port buildings before moving on.

  Alexander set aside all of the other battles taking place around the world and focused on the coming minutes. He could see Mithel Dour looming in the distance, its thousand-foot semi-circular cliff cutting an unnatural face into the mountain range at the heart of the Andalian Isle. The palace cliff looming up behind it completed the other half of the circle, together defining the city’s boundaries.

  The wyverns floated in well above the city, silent on the wind and invisible against the grey night sky. Alexander tapped Kiera on the thigh, pointing to Grant’s balcony. She nodded, leaning into her wyvern, tipping into a dive, and quickly losing several hundred feet of altitude before pulling into a shallow descent. The remaining seven Sky Knights held course for the palace.

  Alexander saw the men positioned around the balcony and the yard, all of them hidden, but not to his sight. Easily fifty men, overseers, armed with clubs and armored in scale mail, hidden around the otherwise vacant Grant estate … all of them waiting.