Equilibrium: Episode 4

by CS Sealey

  “What is it? Something wrong?”

  “I’ve had a vision,” Aiyla said, glancing at Tiderius, “and I need your opinion.”

  Emil stood aside and opened the door wider for them to enter. Once seated, Aiyla began to explain her vision in greater detail. Tiderius watched Emil closely, noting his slight changes of expression as he listened to the tale. When it ended, he sat back against the wall and nodded thoughtfully.

  “Let us assume for a moment that what Aiyla has seen is fact,” Emil said quietly, “that Angora did not die and is, at this moment, alive and well somewhere. Aiyla, broaden your search. Try to track down any traces of her power. If anyone has seen her and is thinking her name, you may be able to delve into their recollections. I realize we have not spent much time on this aspect of your gift, but if ever there was a time to test it, that time is now.”

  CHAPTER 42

  Angora had never known an outing quite as tedious. Of course, any time outside the castle walls was a welcome change to the guarded life she now lived with her husband. For the greater part of this day, she had been going from one manse to the next, smiling pleasantly and participating in polite conversation. The aristocratic families were of old blood and money and were comfortable with their elevated station in life, which left Angora feeling quite out of place despite now being the wealthiest woman in the Ayon Empire.

  Varren had thought it best for her not to go at all but Samian had insisted that his wife accompany him on official business. Since early that morning, they had visited three families in succession, and now, as they took their leave from the last, Angora felt very drained. Varren, who had escorted them to each household, was satisfied with her performance and even rewarded her with half a smile.

  Once they were out on the street, the king threw his arms around her middle and lifted her off the ground.

  “What a marvelous little queen you are!” he cried, spinning her around.

  “Put me down!” She laughed. “How many noble eyes can see us from their windows? Let go!”

  “I don’t care,” Samian said and leaned in to kiss her.

  “That is clear,” Varren said, glancing back at them. “Your reluctance to let me organize a guard for you will backfire one day, sir.”

  “Oh, come on, Archis!” Samian exclaimed, throwing him an exuberant expression. “Who’s a better guard than yourself? Anyway, there’s no need when we’re visiting loyal subjects and the more men we keep around us, the more attention we draw to ourselves. Relax! Let your hair down.”

  “Says the man with not an inch to call his own.”

  “I hope you’re talking about my hair!” the king laughed. “If not, I have perfect proof of my majesty, isn’t that right, my love?”

  Angora raised her eyebrows. “I cannot say I noticed even a little majesty…”

  “Betrayed!” the king exclaimed sadly. “Oh, how you wound me, my queen.”

  “You cannot deny, sire, that the Ronnesians have proven themselves capable of treachery on Ayon soil,” Varren continued earnestly. “There could be an assassination attempt.”

  “Which is why the Ronnesians’ demise is well overdue. Deployment of our forces should go ahead as planned.”

  “A force has already commenced their march to Kilsney. The remainder will join them once the final ships from our allies have arrived. The men have been busying themselves with new battle tactics for months – I’m sure they will be eager to leave. I thought waiting these extra weeks would do us little good but we have gathered more allies from some independent mercenary groups from Airgyl. Unexpected but most certainly welcome.”

  “Good. The sooner we begin, the better. But to more pleasant subjects.” He turned and grinned at Angora. “My dear, we should have a ball to celebrate your return! I remember how fond you are of dancing!”

  “Teronian dancing, perhaps!”

  “We shall invite all the aristocracy and my distant cousins from Turgyl. You’ll like them, Angora. They’re wild and untamed. Their beards are like nothing you have ever seen! I have been told that some clan leaders, as a show of strength, will braid metal beads into their beards for every battle won. And, of course, we should invite provincial commanders as well. Archis, what do you think?”

  “Something’s not right,” Varren said, halting in the middle of the street.

  “About the clan leaders?” Samian asked. “But I thought it was such a good idea. No, I must insist on it. My father valued them very highly and they’re very amusing.”

  “Not the clans, Your Majesty. There’s something else…”

  “What is it?” Angora asked, grasping the king’s sleeve.

  “Shaman magic,” Varren muttered.

  “Impossible,” Samian said, looking around anxiously, all thoughts of frivolity gone. “They wouldn’t dare come here!”

  Angora felt the blood draining from her face. If Varren could identify Emil’s power, then he had to be close. “The queen would not send Emil alone,” she said. “The others will be here too.”

  “They just won’t let you go, will they?” the king muttered angrily, turning to Varren. “How many of them?”

  The sorcerer turned around, sniffing the air carefully. “Four,” he said after a moment, his eyes shining with white fire. “You are right. Sorcha has deployed the whole puppet show.”

  The three hurried along the upper city street and soon found themselves in the courtyard before the castle gates. There, civilians crowded together, their faces turned to the great spires and walls of the castle. It did not take very long for some of those milling about to notice the approaching king and queen. A cry went up and soon the three of them were swamped. Varren did his best to hold them back but Angora felt eager hands clasping her own, heard voices blessing her and the king and saw many excited, smiling faces. But her heart was racked with fear.

  “Please step aside!” Varren shouted. “You there, make way!”

  As they reached the great gates, there was a cry from atop the parapets to admit the king and queen, and a dozen soldiers pushed their way through the large heavy doors to set up a guard around them. Varren ushered them forward, a hint of panic in his eyes now as he glanced back across the courtyard.

  “They’re getting closer. Quickly, get inside!”

  Angora and Samian hurried through the great gates, but as soon as they reached the castle forecourt, they heard Varren shout once more. Angora turned, her eyes wide now with fear, but Samian caught her wrist and drew her away, ordering the guards to bar the doors shut.

  *

  Varren glanced over his shoulder. The guards at the gate were frantically heaving at the doors to pull them closed, but before they succeeded, a spell flew across the courtyard. There was a great boom and the soldiers were blown off their feet. Varren glanced at the slumped guards and glowered. The shaman had struck.

  Turning to face the oncoming threat, he shouted to the panic-stricken civilians to clear the courtyard. They did not have to be told twice; many were already fleeing to safety, but the slower ones watched in terror as yet another spell came careening toward the castle gates. Varren leaped into its path and sent his own power hurtling into the ball of flickering blue flame, scattering the spell into harmless sparks.

  He glanced at the guards once more. They were still down and the gates had not yet been closed. He was the only defense the castle and its inhabitants now possessed. When closed, those gates and the wall that encircled the citadel posed a great barrier to all magicians. Like the walls of Te’Roek castle, the stones had been imbued with spells, strengthening them against the passage of time but also creating a strong shield, preventing any form of spell to damage the stones. The Ronnesians would make it difficult for him to defend the gateway. He could withstand an attack from Emil, Kayte and Markus, but Tiderius Auran would prove something of a challenge. With the Sword of Te’Roek raised in his defense, the young swordsman could deflect virtually any direct attack Varren made.

  The upper city court
yard was now clear except for the four Ronnesians and Varren himself. How many aristocrats were watching the event unfold from their windows, he could not guess. He did hope, though, that Lhunannon, Tarvenna and Vrór had spotted or heard the Ronnesians and were hastening to his aid. The mages spread out as they approached the gate, all ready to strike. Varren could feel the air quivering about him and suspected they were absorbing the energy from the air, feeding their powers. He looked from one to the next, sizing them up as they did him.

  “Hand her over, Varren!” Tiderius demanded, breaking the silence, his blade flickering with blue fire. “This can be done peacefully or violently. It’s your choice.”

  “Is it?” Varren asked. “Tell me, why should I give the queen of the Ayons over to her enemy?”

  “She is no Ayon!”

  “Then why does she remain here with her husband?” he asked and smiled. “To spy on him for you? I think not. The queen remains here where she belongs, where she chooses to be. I will not hand her over. As an Ayon citizen, she is entitled to my full protection and that of every soldier in the empire. Must I remind you what transpired the last time you tried to steal her freedom? Have you forgotten that she turned on you?”

  “The Spirits themselves gave her to us,” Emil said sternly, his brow furrowed. “Who are you to deny us what is rightfully ours? Stand aside!”

  “No.”

  “Then we must force you aside!”

  The shaman thrust his palms forward and a ball of shimmering blue flame hurtled through the air. Varren summoned his power and produced dark energy from his long fingers. It hovered in the air before him and absorbed the fireball with a great hiss before dispersing. Kayte and Markus conjured spells of their own and Varren retaliated.

  Varren leaped, spun and ducked as bolts of pure energy flashed over his head. Some spells hit the sturdy wall behind him and the defensive magic flared, shooting the magic back at the mage. However, any feeling of elation was cut short as he spotted, just in time, the figure of Tiderius Auran bearing down on him. His instincts flared and he flung his arms up to his chest to send a great shockwave of energy. The courtyard trees bowed and swayed under the power of the spell and Tiderius was pushed back, his attack thwarted.

  But the swordsman persevered and came at him again. Varren ducked swiftly as Anathris sliced toward his neck, then sent a ball of crimson fire catapulting at Tiderius’s chest. The power of the sword repeled the assault, leaving him unscathed. Varren threw a spell at the stones of the courtyard and the ground beneath Tiderius’s feet exploded, knocking him off his feet.

  The smoke continued to thicken around them as the battle raged on. Varren did not know how long they had been fighting and was unsure what damage he had caused his adversaries. He glanced repeatedly behind him at the castle, hoping he would soon see his companions rushing to his aid. But with one of these quick glances, he saw a shape slipping past him through the thickening smoke. Too late he realized who it was and angrily sent spell after spell licking at his heels.

  Tiderius turned and swiped at the oncoming balls of fire with his sword. Again and again, Varren tried to stop him crossing the forecourt but he could not leave his place in the gateway. Gritting his teeth, he watched angrily as Tiderius reached the castle doors, wrenched one of them open and staggered inside.

  There was nothing Varren could do but prevent the others following. Furiously, he stood his ground and cursed, clenching his fists. With Varren’s companions absent, Angora and the king were on their own. He hoped the queen was prepared to fight her former companions for a second time.

  *

  They reached the royal suite in minutes. Angora gasped and clutched at a stitch in her side, but Samian was so agitated, he did not give himself time to catch his breath. He went immediately over to the set of drawers beside the large bed and slid out the bottom drawer.

  “What are you doing?” Angora asked.

  “I’m not going anywhere without this,” he said, producing an intricately designed sword and belt and fixing them about his waist, “and I suggest you fetch your staff.”

  Angora opened the doors of her wardrobe and saw it, propped up against the side, half hidden in shadow. She grasped it, feeling more than a little uneasy, and looked anxiously at her husband.

  “You should call Varren back,” she said. “I don’t think he can manage all four of them alone.”

  “I have no influence over him in these situations, my love,” he admitted. “He is a better judge of his own strength than I and, as he has told me time and time again, my life is worth more than his own.” He crossed the room and kissed her forcefully. “Come, it’s not safe here.”

  “But where are we going?”

  “We can hide in the lower recesses,” Samian said. “I know a few hidden passageways.”

  “Perhaps I should talk to them.”

  “Peaceful negotiations will not solve this crisis. That shaman is possessed with some fool notion that he owns you! He will never give you up, neither will that damned Auran boy!”

  “Please, Sam,” Angora pleaded, “if it comes to blows, do not fight him or any of them!”

  “If that swordsman comes anywhere near you, I’ll rip his bloody guts out!”

  “But he has powers beyond your understanding! He could kill you in a second. I have seen Tiderius fight!”

  “But you have not seen me fight.”

  “This has nothing to do with skill!” Angora insisted. “He has a very powerful sword. Please, just let me talk to them and – ”

  “No, Angora, I’m sorry. In this, I must ask you to obey. You are still too willing to see a glimmer of good in even the worst of people! They will not listen to anything you have to say, don’t you see?”

  “But your guards – ”

  “Two can hide better than two dozen. Come.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Tiderius staggered in through the castle doors. An instant later, no less than a dozen Ayon guards charged across the entrance hall with swords drawn. He had a second to ready himself for the first blow, then it became a blur of battle.

  Despite their advantage in numbers, the guards were no match for him, even when multiple swords were bearing down upon him simultaneously. Anathris sliced effortlessly through their attacks, shattering the soldiers’ blades or sweeping scorching heat up to the hilts and forcing the wielders to drop their weapons, shouting in pain. He struck the defenseless soldiers down, every single one of them, and left them sprawled in a widening pool of blood upon the grand carpet.

  Tiderius continued across the entrance hall to the split staircase and ran up the steps two at a time. In front of him was a wide corridor with a long crimson carpet running down the center. Like the walls of the entrance hall, the corridor was lined with portraits of great figures. He caught sight of what he assumed was the main staircase to the other levels and hastened toward it, hearing footsteps. He took a deep breath and ran as quietly as he could down the steps, not knowing whether he was shadowing his quarry or simply a servant. Behind him, he heard the passage of many feet and the chinking of armor. “The castle is under attack!” he heard a man shout. “Find the seer and tell him to summon the mages back, now!”

  Tiderius hastened on, knowing he was swiftly running out of time. The Circle had chosen that precise moment to attack the capital because most of Samian’s mages were away, leaving the king and his new bride vulnerable. But if any of them returned and cornered him in this unfamiliar maze of passages, he would have no chance of escaping. Two floors down, he stopped and listened. There were no more stairs to descend and a dim light from a mounted torch on the wall beside him showed an endless corridor of barred doors. He was in the dungeons.

  He shivered, looking from left to right. The corridor looked the same in both directions. There was no one there. He was just about to return up the stairs, thinking he had come the wrong way, when he heard a man speak sharply. He turned to the left and started forward as quietly as he could. Then he heard Angor
a’s voice and quickened his pace.

  He came to the end of the corridor and saw that one of the cell doors was slightly ajar. He peered into it and noticed that it was not the door to a cell at all but to another corridor. The voices were coming from beyond it. Tiderius silently squeezed himself through the opening, reluctant to move the door lest it should creak and alert them to his presence. He continued on, keeping his eyes on the ground to make sure of his footing.

  “Please call Varren back,” Angora was saying.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were anxious for his safety!” The king chuckled. “The Ronnesians will have to deal with the consequences of their actions and Archis can get very wild when he’s angry. If he manages to kill one or two of them, that would make both of us very happy!”

  Tiderius rounded a bend in the corridor and saw them. They were facing each other in front of another door at the end of the dark corridor, completely unguarded. Samian shot back the bolts and wrenched open the door.

  “Come on, Angora.”

  “I cannot believe I am running away like this! So many people could get hurt in that fight!”

  “The Ronnesians will not listen to you, whatever you have to say! There’s no point in even considering negotiations.”

  “But I have to try, Sam! It is not my duty to stand by and let innocents come to harm!”

  With that, Angora shook herself free of the king’s grip and hurried back down the corridor. Samian came after her but, just as he was reaching for her wrist once more, Tiderius revealed himself, yelling loudly and brandishing his sword. He pulled Angora behind him and swung the blade around so that it was pointing at Samian’s throat. The Ayon king was caught completely off-guard and sprang back, almost tripping over his own feet. He reached for his sword but Tiderius inched his blade closer to the king’s neck and shook his head.