“Not so fast,” the first man cautioned. “Something ain’t right here; don’t look like an accident to me.”
They moved closer to the destroyed building searching for signs of survivors.
“This place has been bombed. Look at it, that whole side is caved in and the rest looks like it will go any minute. If our people are in there, they’ll be plenty hurt.”
The second man moved into the building and began pushing his way through the debris.
“Well, let’s get to lookin’ then. Maybe they’re still alive.”
Another section of the building collapsed before he had gone too far. He froze in place, looking back at his partner.
Multiple fires were burning throughout the large warehouse and they threatened to converge at any moment.
“Be careful, we ain’t gonna do ‘em any good if we bring the rest of this place down on top of their heads.”
The two men picked their way through the debris of the main room, but found nothing there. They moved along what remained of the corridor to the back office. The door to the back office was wedged shut. They pushed it open, and heard a low moan from inside.
“Hear that?” the first man said. “Someone’s alive.”
One of the walls had collapsed inward and the flames were starting to flare. The men beat out the fire temporarily and entered the room. They began shifting through the rubble, throwing debris away with no restraint, all thoughts of care and safety gone. They had precious little time left before the main fire found them with a vengeance, and neither wanted to become trapped in the back room with no hope of escape.
The first body they uncovered was one of their own, the big man named Rafner. He was closest to the door and lying in a pool of his own blood.
“He’s been murdered,” the first man said, probing the dead man’s wounds. “Gutted like a pig.”
“Same over here,” the second man replied, finding two more bodies. “These two have their throats slit from ear to ear.”
As they uncovered the rest of the bodies, what they found shocked their hardened souls. Every one of their comrades had been brutally and callously murdered. The scene looked like something out of a slaughterhouse. They also found the bodies of three strangers they did not immediately recognize. Everyone in the small room was dead, all except one woman.
The first man checked her pulse and looked for signs of obvious injury.
“She’s still alive,” he called out, “Come over and take a look. Maybe you know who she is.”
The body of one of the other strangers had fallen over the woman, covering and protecting her from much of the destructive force of the explosion. It was probably the only reason she was still alive. As the first man shoved the dead body off of her, he cried out to his partner.
“Oh no, it’s the Duke of Telkur.”
The second man knelt down and quickly checked the body.
“He’s been murdered like the rest,” he said, standing and looking around the room. “All of ‘em killed and the building burning to wipe away the evidence. This smells of betrayal and treachery of the highest degree. We’ve got to get out of here. If we’re caught, we’ll be the ones executed for the murder of the duke.”
“What about the woman?”
“Leave her. We ain’t got time for the likes of her.”
“Wait,” the first man said. “Take a closer look at the ring on her finger; it’s the royal crest. This is the duchess. If we help her, she may be able to tell us what happened here. Let’s get her out of here before anyone else comes around.”
“What about the rest?”
“Leave them. They’re dead. We’ll get our revenge for this treachery later.”
The two men lifted the unconscious woman from the floor and fled, barely escaping the blazing inferno. Once outside, the big man threw the woman over his shoulder. Blending into the misty fog, the men ran for the safety their ship. In the distance, they could hear the sirens of the local city patrol approaching.
Excerpt from The Chronicles of Otharia during the reign of the First Vacancy:
Division II – The PSI Potential
Subsection I: PSI Factor
The PSI factor does not fully manifest itself until puberty, and the full potential of an individual cannot be measured until then. An individual’s full ability may never be ascertained if the PSI category is not recognized and properly trained. Though rare, a potentially powerful PSI factor can occasionally be found in families that had no previous instances of great strength. For this reason, all children are tested. Any PSI has the ability to “sense” another PSI, but this sensing is limited to the recognition of PSI and not the potential power of the individual. The children with great potential are singled out for special training at the Otharian Institute for Paranormal Studies.
Chapter 7 – The Solution
The two figures were barely visible in the darkness.
“Where is he?” Dyla asked.
“I don’t know,” Ty replied. “I haven’t seen him since last night.”
Dyla shook her head in exasperation.
“Damn him. I’ll be right back.”
She turned and sprinted off towards the barracks. Running in the stillness of predawn, Dyla’s thoughts wandered and, as always, returned to the tragic death of her parents. Their deaths were never far from her thoughts, and it was hard to believe a full year had passed since that fateful night. The ache in her heart had not lessened with time. She had many unresolved questions about that night, questions that she was no closer to solving. Sympathetic counselors had told her that the pain of losing her parents would subside with time, but she wondered if that was true for her. The ache she felt was deep in her bones, as if a vital part of her had been ripped away. Her strong empathic powers made her feel the loss more acutely and she wasn’t sure the pain would ever fade.
Dyla shook her head. She had no time for this musing today. They had a job to do and she was determined not to be distracted. She reached the barracks, turned down the hall, and stormed into her brother’s dorm room.
“Darius, wake up.”
Darius awakened with a start at the sound of the door banging against the wall. His eyes fluttered open to see his twin dressed in training gear standing over his bunk, her raven hair pulled back in a braid and her piercing blue-violet eyes trained on him. She did not look pleased.
Another day in paradise, he thought stretching his long limbs.
“Morning Dy,” he said sheepishly.
Dyla planted her hands on her hips.
“You’re twenty minutes late. Ty and I have been waiting for you on the training field. You know we have a tight schedule, and if we miss this opportunity because you were screwing around ...”
Darius sat up and the bed sheet slipped, revealing his bed partner.
“Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night. Is it dawn already?”
Dyla’s gaze fell on the young woman, whose face had been buried in her brother’s chest. The girl rolled over and looked up.
“Hi, Dyla. How are you doing?” Tyline asked.
“I’m missing my training partner, that’s how I’m doing.”
Darius didn’t want to push his luck any further with his sister.
“OK, OK, don’t get upset. I’m up. Give me two minutes to get dressed.”
Dyla tried hard to keep the scowl on her face. Her brother was dedicated to their training regime, but this wasn’t the first time she had dragged him out of bed and probably wouldn’t be the last.
“Two minutes, Darius, or we’ll start without you,” Dyla replied and stormed out of the room.
Darius stood to dress while Tyline lay languidly in his bed.
He bent and gently stroked her face.
“Tyline, love, I do wish we had more time together, but as you heard, I’m already late.”
“Darius, five more minutes won’t hurt anyone. You know they won’t start without you,” Tyline purred. “Or maybe, we should make that t
en.”
“Oh, you’re bad.”
Darius kissed her and moved his hand lightly down the length of her body, eliciting a soft moan from the young woman.
“Now who’s being bad?” she said.
“Hold that thought for later. Right now I have to go.”
Quickly donning his training gear, he gave her a final wink and darted out of the room to join his sister and cousin on the training field.
Dyla stood with Ty in the cool morning air. Both watched Darius sprint across the field in record time.
“Morning, Prince Charming,” Ty said.
Darius scowled at his best friend, Tyrian Persing. Ty was the twins’ cousin and the Heir Apparent to the Persing throne. Ty’s mother, the current Duchess of Persing, was the only sister of their late mother, but Ty resembled his father: tall stature with green eyes and a shock of wavy red hair that defied the leather strip trying to contain it. He was a telekinetic, and the third member of their training group.
They were training hard in the hopes of taking home first prize in the upcoming, prestigious Grand Competition. First prize in the competition was a hefty purse of gold and was the best hope the twins had to save their duchy from bankruptcy. It would easily cover all their debts and fend off the hounds baying at the duchy’s coffers.
The Telkur Duchy was in serious financial trouble. When Baron Avikar became Regent last year, he had explained to the twins that their father’s social programs had wiped out the treasury. Levon had been forced to secure loans to continue funding the programs. They found it hard to believe that their father had jeopardized the financial health of the duchy, and never believed the duke had resorted to smuggling for money. Neither cared that the Grand Council had found their father posthumously guilty of smuggling without the chance of defending his besmirched honor. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much they could do about any of this until Darius came of age next year and inherited the throne. Only then could he file a petition to reopen his father’s case.
For now, Avikar was in charge and his regency cut Darius to the quick. Darius was eager to assume control of the duchy, but he swore he wouldn’t inherit a destitute and impoverished house. They had to win the competition to keep the duchy intact.
“Jeez, Ty, thanks for sending my sister to fetch me. Her timing was perfect. Any later and we might have had an embarrassing hello.”
Ty raised an eyebrow and stifled a laugh.
“Not a problem. I knew Dyla would get you out of bed a lot faster than I ever could.”
Darius glanced at his sister. Her silhouette stood out in sharp contrast against the rising sun. Dyla was an athletic young woman. She was also a skilled fighter and had recently reached the top tier of the Academy’s martial arts program. It was a feat few students ever attained and Darius was justifiably proud of her. Many men coveted her for her beauty, but her empathic skills and fighting prowess kept most of them at bay. Few at the Academy could hold their own in a test of fighting skills against her, and many felt intimidated by the steel persona she projected. It was her way of protecting herself from others’ emotions, but it only added to her imposing stature.
Except for me, of course, Darius thought, smiling at his sister. I’ll still kick her ass.
As if sensing what he was thinking, Dyla looked at her brother. Her stare alone was disquieting and had backed down many would-be suitors. Darius winked at her. She couldn’t help herself and rewarded him with a smile and a brief laugh.
“Sometimes you’re such an ass,” she said.
Her smile always raised his spirits.
“I know, but that’s why you love me.”
Darius depended on his sister to balance him and keep him from falling into one of his infamous gloomy moods. The events of the past year had threatened to overwhelm him many nights and she was the only one who could tease him out of his dark brooding. She was his confidante, and he relied heavily on her counsel. Her keen insight and sharp wits had pulled them through many tight situations during their young lives and, no doubt, would pull them out of many more.
“OK you two, time is wasting while you guys make nice,” Ty said.
Dyla and Darius both looked at Ty and chuckled.
The sun was cresting the horizon in magnificent glory when the three figures sprinted off for another grueling day of training. They had only a short time left to perfect themselves into a team that could win the Grand Competition. Time was against them, but they plunged forward in good company and good spirits.
Excerpt from The Chronicles of Otharia during the reign of the First Vacancy:
Division I – The Rule of Otharia
Subsection III - The Duchies
Incidences of fratricide within the Royal houses were uncommon occurrences, but they did happen. Younger siblings were often destined to lesser titles of Count or Baron under a numbered order of ascension. Their livelihoods largely depended on the graciousness of the sitting Duke or Duchess and they were often granted small tracts of land to rule in their own right. Occasionally, this rule of ascent did not sit well with the younger siblings and resulted in rash actions. Fighting among family members usually resulted in a change to the order of ascension. Any outright murder of a royal member was dealt with swiftly and with devastating consequence, but mysterious accidents did happen.
Chapter 8 – Rylee
Duke Rylee Persing studied his reflection in the full-length mirror. He was not usually a self-conscious man, but he wanted to look his best today. He was a large man with a barrel chest that played havoc when being fitted with ceremonial garb. The flawless fit of his royal attire today reflected the painstaking hours that his tailors had labored. His head of flaming red hair defied all attempts at control, so Rylee simply wore it short. His wife thought he looked dashing when it was long, but Rylee could not be bothered wasting effort trying to control his unmanageable locks. He buckled on his ceremonial sword, smoothed the front of his jacket, and looked once more at the cut of his outfit.
Well enough, Rylee thought. Thank God the sun is not scorching today.
It would be a good day no matter if it rained, snowed or was devastatingly hot. Today was the graduation ceremony for the School of Advanced Studies at the Otharian Institute for Paranormal Studies. His only son, Tyrian, was graduating from the School of Telekinesis in less than an hour and he beamed with pride as he thought of his son graduating from the prestigious program that produced the best of the best. Ty was an exceptionally gifted telekinetic and had finished in the top ten percent of his class.
Rylee had a detailed plan for Ty, methodically grooming his son for the eventual role of presiding over the Persing Duchy. Now that the school lessons were finished, Rylee planned to continue his son’s education with lessons on governorship and rule. Since his eighteenth birthday earlier in the year, Rylee had been bringing Ty to the Governing Council meetings to see first-hand the workings of government. Ty had matured well in the last few years and Rylee was confident that his son would make a fine duke.
“Katelle, dear, I do hope you’re almost ready. We don’t want to be late for our son’s graduation.”
Duchess Katelle was sitting in front of the mirror in her dressing chamber, fumbling with the clasp of her favorite necklace. She called out to her husband in frustration.
“Please Rylee, don’t hurry me. I’m almost ready, but I’m having trouble fastening my necklace.”
“Yes, yes, I understand, dear. Take your time, I’ll be waiting.”
Rylee paced around the outer chamber.
“Katelle, I was thinking how tragic it is that Levon and Lilliana can’t be here to see Darius and Dyla graduate today. They would have been so proud of them. I still can’t believe that they’re gone. It’s utterly preposterous that the accusation of them being involved with smugglers is still being bantered about in the Grand Council after all this time. The investigation that Avikar headed up was a travesty of justice. These times we live in are enough to try a man’s sanity.”
Rylee stopped in front of the mirror to remove an imperceptible piece of lint off of his jacket. He began to adjust his sword and scowled at the way it hung at his side.
“Yes, my dear, but I’ll never be convinced of their guilt, and I have voiced my suspicions to some of our friends.”
“Really? I’ve asked you before not to talk to anyone besides the family about that whole sordid affair. Who knows how people really feel or think about such a delicate issue? Besides, at the moment, I need you. Can you come in here and help me fasten this necklace?”
“Yes, I’ll be there in a moment,” Rylee replied, still fussing with his sword.
Katelle sighed and continued struggling with her necklace.
If this wasn’t so expensive, she silently threatened, I’d throw it away.
A slight rustle of the balcony drapes behind her briefly caught Katelle’s attention. If she had not been so distracted with the intricate fastening, she might have seen the black-draped figure slip through the window and hide behind the drapes.
“Wonderful, there’ll be a breeze today,” she mumbled.
The assassin peered around the drapes to locate his targets. He saw the woman sitting at the bench. Luckily for him, her head was down, her hands in her lap. He moved with cat-like grace and within a few strides was directly behind her.
“Thank goodness you’ve finally came to help me,” she said without looking up. “Could you please ...”
He sliced the razor sharp stiletto under her chin, cleanly severing her throat from ear to ear. She didn’t utter a sound and her head slumped forward. The assassin quickly moved away from the woman and stood behind the open bedchamber door.
Rylee strode into the bedchamber.
“Are you still fussing with that necklace?”
Rylee stopped short, transfixed by the scene in front of him. There was a large, red stain flowing down the front of his wife’s gown.
The Quest for Nobility Page 5