by Cara Coe
Chapter 47
Amelie
This tug of war went on for several days. Rankor would start a session and she would immediately push her healing power in the stream of his taking. After two attempts, he ceased trying, frustrated at being outsmarted. Frustrated at carrying only a fraction of her persuasive power.
His offerings of food stopped, but it didn’t affect her since she hadn’t been eating them in the first place. With the taking sessions at a standstill, he had her beat in their stead. The Grantham guard was given the task. She took the hits with a defiant eye and little flinching, rising to stand if one caused her to fall. When he was feeling particular vicious, he used the thick part of his palm to land a hard blow on her shoulder wound. In her mind she vowed that if she found a chance to escape this wretched camp, she would spend a few precious seconds killing them both.
She didn’t know how much power Rankor had managed to steal from her before she found a way to thwart him. She felt him use what he had on her. She knew because as she sat across from him on occasion watching him eat dinner and nursing her wounds, she would suddenly feel a softness towards him. He amused her – her thoughts swelled with him. She caught herself smiling. It was a small amount, one that she recognized soon after its affect and could resist. However, it was alarming enough that she knew she’d end herself before she ever let him have it all. Her temporary loss of control frightened her. Oh, what had those men thought as they came out from under her spell, many times to the tip of her dagger? Dangerous as they were she couldn’t stop the nausea from sweeping over her body at the thought of the influence she’d held over all of them.
One day, the beatings stopped. The Grantham man backhanded her, his lip curling in sick satisfaction. He drew his hand back for another, but it never reached her cheek. Rankor clenched his hand over the guard’s raised fist and shook his head.
“Enough,” he commanded.
“She has yet to cooperate,” the guard snarled.
“Go fetch a plate of food and bring it for her. From this moment on you are not to lay a finger on her. You take too much joy in her suffering. She is stronger than you in will and smarter than you in her gaze which makes you unworthy of this assignment.”
Rankor turned to her as the guard left.
“You have convictions. Convictions, I have learned, that can withstand torture. Therefore, we need not continue that line of persuasion.”
He poured her a cup of water which she loathed to accept but had no choice as she’d been deprived for more than a day and her thirst clawed at her throat.
She watched him as she drank. His eyes skimmed a piece of parchment he withdrew from his pocket. His silver hair was not pulled back today and brushed the top of his shoulders. His face was smudged with dust and etched with worry lines around his eyes. He seemed aged. The proud stance and confidence he always carried sagged a little. He glanced up and caught her studying him. His smile was small.
“Make your assumptions, hafling. I can see your mind working in your eyes.”
Something Seth used to comment on. She didn’t like that the two men shared any traits.
“So what now?” she asked plainly. Her question was genuine with no trace of sarcasm. She knew he would give her a blunt truth.
“Now I decide,” he answered. “I take all your power, the troublesome healing one as well. Or I take none of your power and kill you after your mother arrives and you’ve served your purpose.”
He smiled at the startled look she failed to conceal.
“Don’t worry too much yet. That is not my preference. If I can find a way to continue with my plan without your death, it is the direction I will take. I regret the actions I’ve had to employ so far but even if you think they are unnecessary, understand that I feel the opposite.”
“I can’t understand it. Not when innocent lives are at stake.”
The plate of food arrived then and Rankor took it and placed it in front of her.
“Eat. This little control you feel you wield over your refusal of my food harms no one but yourself.” He leaned in and said more intimately, “Had I wanted you poisoned, I’d have a guard shove it down your throat. I’ve no need for stealth.”
Amelie did not eat – in front of him, anyways. She waited until he left to send a message, a return note to the parchment he read she guessed, before moving to alleviate her hunger. Though she knew he was right, she still needed to mentally fight him in some way. Rankor returned, noted the missing morsels and said nothing.
* * *
Even with her defiance, the comforts returned. Soft pallets, plentiful offerings of food, and conversation in place of what would have been their sessions. Despite being thwarted at taking her power, he appeared to be impressed that he’d come across someone intelligent enough to get around his agenda.
“The white forest is on the other side of the cliffs,” he said one night, sipping a goblet of blood red wine. He stretched out on a blanket, full from a dinner of rice and golden plantains. Her portion was set beside her and she busied herself with scratching lines with a pebble into the thick root that ran through the tent and held her chains when she was put in restraints.
He hadn’t bothered trying to take her power when she came in, just gestured for her sit across from him. She was tired of the endless days of waiting and asked had him when they were going to move on to the edge of the white forest. His answer surprised her.
“I see only the sea,” Amelie protested. The gray cliffs looked out across an even grayer sea with white foam whipping up where it crashed into the rocks.
“Look not with your human eyes, but with your mage eyes. It is a bay, surrounded by cliffs and the edge of the white forest stands in brilliance at the end of your fingertips. It is magicked into hiding, invisible to humans.”
“I only have one set of eyes,” Amelie argued.
Rankor shook his head. “Feel your magic. Let it thrum through you. Let it nestle where it likes. The white forest will come into view and the path to enter will light up in front of you. All magical beings can see past the enchantment.”
“Why are you so forthcoming in information?” Amelie questioned.
Rankor finished off his wine. “I am not the evil you paint on me. Like I said, I do only what I must to complete my plan. You may go freely after we are done. I have but one enemy and she would strike you down if she knew of your existence.”
“You terrorize and meddle in human affairs. You have more than one enemy.”
“Human deaths are a byproduct of mage war as they probably always will be. Their minds are weak and easily manipulated and that’s without magic. I need them to get to her. I need their numbers to draw out her armies so I can begin stealing real power. Only someone more powerful can stop her.”
“You are every bit the evil I call you out to be if you are using innocent people in such as way.”
Rankor snorted. “They are not so innocent. They are quick to agree to overthrow monarchies if it means more riches, more power, more prestige for themselves. The humans you claim to be innocent have many of their own faults. The mages I seek to save are barely born and are truly innocent in all this.”
Amelie shook her head. “You do not value human life,” she argued. “So you are not troubled by its loss.”
Rankor conceded with a nod. “Humans are useful but they are the lesser race. I do not feel their deaths. Yours is the first to hold importance to me.”
The comment smacked surprise into Amelie. “My power,” she surmised.
“Yes, but I mean your human side. It holds more substance than I’ve seen in most. Had we met under different circumstances, I should like to get to know you.”
Amelie did not return the sentiment. “I do not think there is a circumstance in which I would wish your acquaintance.”
“Indeed,” Rankor said, trying to suppress a smile. “Your dislike for me is as palatable as your magic.” He nodded to the untouched food to her right. “I’ll leave n
ow so you can sneak bites of your supper.”
Chapter 48
Amelie
Amelie was roused from a deep sleep by two guards whose faces she’d not seen before. They pushed at her impatiently until she became lucid.
“Come,” the taller, thicker one demanded. “You are needed.”
Where they were going didn’t take long to get to. The guards trudged her through a thick section of forest until they cleared the trees to a large cliff with an overhang over the bay. Remnants of trees scattered the stony cliff showing the pattern of the receding forest. The queen stood there, looking out over the expansion to where Rankor claimed the white forest to be and he stood a few feet from her watching the trio emerge from the foliage. He kicked aside a large branch, his smug smile shining on his face.
“Pull a knife on her,” he instructed to the guard on her left. Her arms were immediately pulled behind her back and the cool metal pressed to her throat. The queen remained calm.
“I always enjoyed this view,” she said, turning to face everyone. “Looking out over the White Forest. It’s so beautiful it’s hard to imagine the ugliness that lurks inside it.”
“On that we can agree,” Rankor conceded.
“Thank you for meeting me here. Your hideous face was not the last vision I wanted before death.”
“Probably a more appealing vision than your daughter’s blood on my hands. Your change of heart is welcome, Fake Queen. I was beginning to lose patience.”
Queen Gala appraised Amelie with a stony look. “Well, we’re all here. I will die either way. May as well have her released since that fact is inevitable.”
Amelie bit back her tears. She knew what her mother thought of her but it was still painful to hear the apathy in her voice.
“You will die. You’re as guilty as all the other mages even though you didn’t dwell in the forest. You support the white queen and for that, you will meet your fate. Your daughter is innocent in this. With your cooperation, she can go free. But not until I have the information I need.”
“Your perception is slanted. I aided the Princess but that does not constitute devotion to her Majesty. The princess was my friend. Once she was gone, I chose not to return.” The queen gave a ghost of a smile. “But you care not for that information. It’s wasted breath. You have the eagerness of a man wronged and no words that contradict your views will be heard.
“I knew the old woman you seek through Princess Elmeda. She delivered her at birth and took a liking to her. She visited anytime she had business at the White Palace. When we were hidden among the humans, the visits continued. She slipped past the gates once a year. The woman was a Reader, but she also had the power of Enhancement. She could read the magic of a child in the womb and over several days develop that power. What takes a mage years to learn at the age of maturity is mastered in their fiber. When the magic manifests at maturity, they have only to grow upon the mastery.”
Rankor shook his head slowly. “I know this. I have searched for her. She is not in the White Forest and she is not in the human kingdoms. The fact that she was able to make a half mage so powerful must mean moonstone is not a myth. Where is she? Your daughter is the last known of her work.”
“Last known of her magical work, perhaps. She has long been gone from the White Palace courts. She still dabbles in herbs, though. Creates teas and concoctions to further enhance power. She is still hard at work.”
Rankor turned to size up Amelie. “So she still serves you,” he accused angrily. “What are you hiding from me, girl?” he snarled.
The queen stepped between them. “You will not find her in Candor with Amelie. While she was delighted to see her again, her loyalty still lies with Elmeda.”
“What do you mean?” Rankor demanded.
“She still tends to Elmeda’s son, Prince Seth. His power of Resistance grows stronger each day.”
Realization awakened in Amelie. “Henna,” she whispered.
Rankor’s attention snapped towards her and he covered the distance between them in a swift stride. His hand clenched her chin tightly and his eyes were cool pools of rage. The guard dropped the knife from her neck and stood clear. “You knew?”
Amelie’s hand instinctively closed around his wrist as her pain increased. “Not until this moment,” she wheezed, barely getting the words out. He squeezed harder.
“That woman, Amelie, is my mother.”
The queen put a forceful hand on Rankor’s arm. “That woman you speak of saved your life smuggling you out of the White Forest. And you repay her with shame.”
Rankor released Amelie to backhand Queen Gala across the face. Rankor’s strength equaled that of two men and the blow sent the queen flying onto the stones. She kept her cheek pressed to the ground and winced in pain. She was not used to such treatment. Rankor drew his short sword.
“Get your opinions out, woman, for there isn’t much time for more. Your use is over.”
Amelie scrambled towards him to intervene, but Rankor hit her with a burst of energy and she cried out as she crumpled to the ground. The guards seized her on either side, but Amelie found new strength born from desperation as Rankor advanced on her mother. She threw her elbow into the chin of one. He released her and his knife clattered to the rocky ground. She maneuvered herself so that the other guard had to let go or twist his arm unnaturally. In one smooth motion, she scooped the dropped knife into her palm then spun herself in a low circle to cleanly slice the knee caps of both guards. As they fell, she sliced each neck to match their knee wounds but with deadlier consequences. Then she straightened herself and launched it at Rankor’s back. He turned as it flew and it embedded itself deep into his side. She was rewarded with an energy pulse to the gut that threw her backwards.
Angrily, Rankor pulsed another stream of energy, this one constant and growing in intensity as he walked towards her. Amelie struggled to see through the white blinding pain.
“Why do you keep fighting me?” The words clawed their way from his throat angrily. Amelie thought she saw a flash of regret in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced with determined calculation as he increased his energy. Mother of Angels, he had been withholding. Amelie felt that now as she writhed in pain under his full power, barely able to keep her misery inside her skin.
A scream unfurled from within and Amelie’s voice seemed to shake the trees. The energy stopped. Rankor kept his hands held up in uncertainty.
“Your cry of pain made me stop,” he muttered in a confused voice. He looked down to the dagger lodged in his abdomen and pulled it out. Blood spread across his tunic.
Amelie was sick with nausea and doubled vision but she recognized her opportunity and seized this moment. She staggered to her feet and inched forward towards him.
“Let my mother go,” her voice scratched out. His wound throbbed ghost pains in her side. “Let her go and you can have my magic. I will not fight you.”
“I have no reason to believe you. You just struck me with your dagger.”
“You are hurt. I will heal you. I will heal you and be hot and useless for the next several hours. Leave this place, take me with you, and when I am well again, drain what is left of me. You have your information. You can have my power and continue with your campaign.”
“You are not on my side.”
“I am on no one’s side but the one that keeps my own safe from harm.”
Rankor leveled a look at Amelie. “You know more of me than most. I may still kill her.”
“I know this. I must try to bargain.”
Amelie held her hand out for the dagger. His eyes narrowed.
“My injury has not rendered me stupid.”
Amelie sighed impatiently. “Then cut open your shirt so I may tend the wound.”
He did as she instructed. His purple tunic flapped in the wind, strings tangling from the jagged manner in which the dagger teeth sliced at it. He bent to remove her gold shackles. Free from her magical restraints, she knelt down in front of h
im and fingered the skin around the wound. Her body pulsed with the hot desire to heal. Rankor brought the dagger up to her cheek.
“I will have your power before we part ways.”
Amelie looked at him gravely. “This will hurt.”
She pushed the fabric aside, drew in a breath of courage, and reached into her pocket. Grabbing a handful of amber dust, she quickly smothered it into the wound then placed her hand upon his skin. She felt the magic leave her and meet his cut, desperate to close it but confused by the presence of amber.
It took longer than it should and Amelie trembled with the effort, heat searing her core like no other time before. But her eyes blazed with a determined finality and she pushed harder. The two screamed in unison and when it was done, Rankor’s skin was a mess of silver scars, crisscrossing haphazardly and indicative of a defective healing.
“What have you done?” he cried angrily. The dagger point came to her head and stopped. His free hand fisted her shirt in a tight tangle and drew her up from her knees. Her toes barely met the ground and her feet had no need to support her weight. Even injured he could lift her with a single hand and little effort. His eyes were wild. Underneath the wildness there was hesitation. He had only to drive the point of the blade into her temple.
“The dirt is filled with amber dust from the bindings you’ve bestowed upon me these last several days.” Amelie’s voice held no emotion. “It is in your blood now. You cannot keep all the magic you’ve stolen.”
“I could kill you. Smash your wretched little head for your treachery.”
“It is hardly treachery. I owe nothing to you. I am on the side that keeps my own safe.”
Anger climbed into Rankor’s features and his grip tightened. The knifepoint broke skin and Amelie felt the trickle of blood run down her cheek. So be it. Already her skin was feverish and the effects of her healing draining her.