Mason’s keen eyes sought the few men who slunk away. They wouldn’t survive long. The rest stared mutely at him for a few seconds. One of the Soldiers who had guarded the gate when they left the city raised his fist to his chest in a salute. “Long Live Queen Kiarra,” he shouted. The call was taken up, and Mason’s eyes burned with unshed tears. The Spies and Soldiers had been busy spreading stories of Kiarra in their absence, and there wasn’t a single man in the arena who didn’t know who she was. They repeated the salute, their voices rising to a chant, and Mason nodded.
Reed hurried forward and bound his arm. He hadn’t realized it was still bleeding until the Scholar wrapped a cloth around it. Reed glanced at Calum’s body. “I’m sorry, brother.”
Mason spared only a glance for the man that used to be his father. “He is no family of mine,” he growled. “What of the archer?” he demanded. The man who had started the chant approached, a few men loyal to Mason following.
“The Scholar dispatched him readily, Sir,” the Soldier named Stanley boasted. Mason glanced at Reed, and Reed shrugged. There was a throwing knife missing from his belt. Mason clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“Thank you.” Mason turned to the Soldiers. “We go to rescue the Queen. Make certain no men who support my father or King Everett remain in this city, by whatever means necessary.” The men nodded, saluted, and passed along the order.
Reed and Mason headed toward the palace. Kiarra needed them.
Chapter 30
Ian
Ian felt the burst of power along the bond and assumed Mason was fighting his father. He whispered a quick plea that his chosen brother would be victorious as he slunk along the palace walls and into the palace. Most of the guards were uncaring, but careful not to appear so, in case they were caught. They were distracted by fear and anger. They didn’t like guarding the King and the strange man who followed him around.
Ian listened in on several conversations and determined the average citizens had no idea the Sorcerer used magic. They only knew he was evil, and they suspected he had killed the previous King and Queen. Several citizens mentioned, in hushed voices, the circulating stories of the woman who was the ancestor of an ancient Queen. Her gender didn’t bother them; they had experienced horrible things under the current ruler in the short time since he’d taken the throne.
Ian breathed a sigh of relief as he slipped into an antechamber, allowing himself a break. Sweat beaded on his brow. It required immense strength to cloak his form, and he didn’t want to borrow from the others yet. They had their own assignments and would face situations which could necessitate their full power. Ian didn’t want to deprive them of any energy, and he hoped they would draw on his if needed.
The palace, just like the city, felt different than when they had left. There were no laughing servants or bustling couriers. Ian didn’t see a single child and hoped their parents had wisely retreated into the outer city with them. Heavy despair filled the inner walls. While Ian found it easier to sink into the shadows, he worried the Sorcerer would more easily note his presence because he was a master of the darkness. He didn’t stay too long in the shadows for that reason, flitting into the light when there was no one about. He thought about freeing the prisoners before going to Kiarra but worried he’d encounter problems and not be available when his match needed him.
He slunk down stone halls that echoed of emptiness and desolation. People had died here. The stench of death hung in the air, causing his fists to clench. How many innocent people had lost their lives because they defied the Sorcerer and his minions? Ian wasn’t laboring under the delusion that Everett, if he still lived, held any control in this situation. With the method Treleaven’s royalty used, he need never appear in public as long as edicts were issued in his name.
Ian was nearing the outer ring of halls when he felt a tug on his tunic. He whirled, the special dagger in his hand. Jeff mingled with the shadows, his dark skin paled. The Spy raised his hands in surrender and beckoned to an empty room. Ian followed warily. He had believed Jeff was a prisoner and he wasn’t ruling out the possibility that the Sorcerer could adopt another’s face. His stomach turned at the thought.
Once in the empty room, Jeff sank wearily onto the discarded sofa. A puff of dust rose with him, and Ian wrinkled his nose to prevent a sneeze. The Spy looked tired and defeated. Ian scanned the room, affirming it didn’t hide a secret doorway. There was nothing in the chamber other than the old couch.
“Thank the Fates you have returned,” Jeff muttered with a heavy sigh.
“Where have you been?” Ian asked cautiously, not relaxing his guard. “Your grandmother thinks you were captured.”
Jeff’s pain-filled eyes met his. “I was, but there are very few dungeon cells. Neither the Sorcerer nor Everett knows all the secret passages in the palace. I only escaped this morning and was making my way down this corridor when I glimpsed your form slinking through the shadows. Something led me here, something I can’t explain. Out of all the corridors in the palace, we should not have met in the same one.”
Ian nodded. He had been thinking along similar lines. The dagger remained in his hand, and he took stock of his other weapons, just in case. At this point, he trusted nothing, not even his friend.
“Carson?” Ian asked.
“Dungeon,” Jeff replied. “I was seeking assistance to free him. It’s bad, Ian. The Sorcerer is unhinged. He is not even a man. He tortures the women he has collected, drawing their energy out of them slowly.”
“Kiarra?” Ian cursed his voice when it broke in weakness and fear.
“If he has her, she doesn’t have long,” Jeff admitted slowly. Ian’s hand tightened on the dagger. “Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if he waits for all of you to show up. I heard a rumor that makes me think the energy transfer is strongest when the woman’s bondmates are close.”
Ian’s jaw set in determination. If the Sorcerer waited until they were all there, it would be the last mistake he ever made. “What did he do to you?” Ian asked his old friend. The man didn’t appear hurt. He wasn’t bleeding or limping, but his eyes were haunted by shadows.
Jeff looked at the ground and drew in a shaky breath, hesitating. Ian wondered what was so wicked he couldn’t repeat it. Gone was his easy-going, cocky friend. Jeff would recover in time, but horrors still haunted him. “He seeks your worst fears and brings them to life,” the Spy whispered in a small voice that sounded nothing like him.
Ian stiffened. Unbidden, his worst fears flared in his mind, and he shivered. If the Sorcerer could invent reality, such terrors would drive him mad. He felt pity for Jeff, although his mind continued to scream that not everything was as it seemed.
He placed a hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “I am sorry, friend.”
“I’m not.” The words were quiet, and Jeff moved faster than humanly possible. He clamped a strange metal around Ian’s wrists, knocking the dagger to the ground. Though Ian struggled, he couldn’t free himself or dislodge the magical shackles.
The bonds still connected him to his brothers, but they were dulled and flickered as if weakened. He couldn’t pull the shadows around him anymore, and heaviness preyed upon his muscles. He stared into Jeff’s eyes, saw a glimmer of red, and cursed himself. It had been a trap all along. His instincts had urged him, but he had let the old friendship trick him. This either wasn’t Jeff or the Sorcerer had taken control of his mind. Jeff would never willingly betray him. Would he?
Ian’s mind clouded, and his muscles refused to cooperate with his demands. He didn’t want to follow Jeff, but his body walked after the traitor against his will. Fire blazed in the center of his chest, and it took several minutes for his confused brain to understand what the heat meant. Kiarra. He was getting closer; each step cleared his mind. He felt the bond between them strengthen and increase his clarity. The cord still flickered uneasily, and he could barely feel Kiarra on the other end, but that renewed his purpose. Unfortunately, it didn’t aid his muscles. T
he metal around his wrists burned every time he attempted the slightest resistance. The pain wouldn’t have stopped him, but he worried the Sorcerer would increase the spell on his mind if he struggled.
The guards at the door barely glanced in their direction. Ian noted their eyes were glazed like the men who had been sent to the farm. If all the guards were enchanted, Ian didn’t know if it would be easier or harder for his brothers. He kept his shoulders stooped and his eyes low as he assessed his surroundings. The buzzing along his skin from the metal bracelet was annoying; the cloying darkness crept up his arm. It felt like spiders crawled across his flesh and burrowed into his skin. He didn’t mind spiders. If Synlair was trying to scare him, he would have to work harder.
His steps faltered when he saw Kiarra. She was unconscious, draped over a settee. Black bracelets like the one Jeff had clapped on his arms decorated both her wrists and her ankles. She still wore her travel clothes, although her boots had been removed and her breeches were cut off at her knees.
Ian’s jaw tightened, the metal burning his skin. She didn’t seem any closer to him, despite occupying the same room. Whatever spell she labored under was deep and consuming. He still couldn’t contact her properly along the bond. Helplessness blazed like poison through his veins.
“Ah, so nice of you to join us. Of course, you couldn’t really resist. Not only does my puppet look like your best friend, but he also has the enhanced powers of a Merchant. Merchants can be very persuasive.” The raspy voice of the Sorcerer sent shivers down Ian’s spine. Synlair prowled towards him and motioned to Jeff. The puppet secured his wrists to a chain attached to the wall. Would they be forced to watch the Sorcerer drain Kiarra? Or worse? Ian’s eyes spat fire as the man who looked like Jeff moved away. He could see now that he didn’t walk like his friend; his movements were jerky.
The Sorcerer laughed. It was not a sound of delight or even amusement; it was a parody of real emotion. His paper-thin flesh pulsed, the black veins running under his skin like rivers of tar. He flung a hand, and the glamour slipped from Jeff, revealing what used to be Prince Everett. The man was no longer a man. His skin was yellow; it hung loosely on his bones as if he were centuries old instead of in his early twenties. His eyes, as green as his father’s, were dead and emotionless.
“Sit down, boy,” the Sorcerer snarled at the Prince and the puppet complied. He sat in a chair across the room, his movements wooden and his eyes gazing into the distance without seeing anything. The Sorcerer snorted. “Useless boy. One energy transfer and he became nothing more than a husk. Helpful when I need a body to carry out my wishes, but not so great for anything else.” Synlair sounded suitably angry, but Ian ignored him. He was still mad he had been duped by what he thought had been his best friend. He was so furious, he couldn’t even be relieved the other Spy hadn’t betrayed him. He had let everyone that mattered down.
Ian’s eyes roved the chamber. Besides Kiarra, there were no other humans. Kiarra’s family wasn’t here, and there were no guards in the cavernous room. The Sorcerer stopped several feet away from Ian, his eyes boring into him. Ian recoiled. His flesh reeked as if it decayed on his bones.
“You know, Assassin, I’m beginning to wonder if this wasn’t a mistake. Your country is pitiful. The people are nothing more than sheep. You cannot see through a trap, and I doubt Kiarra’s other matches will be any better. It’s all rather boring, actually. I was expecting more fight and more fire. This has all been so easy. I imagine stealing Kiarra’s energy will be equally effortless.”
Ian clenched his teeth, but he refused to let the Sorcerer bait him. “If it’s too easy for you, you could just leave.” He would never let the bastard walk away, but the more he talked, the more time his brothers had. The metal muted the energy transfer and his connection to his brothers, but he felt his strength slowly returning to his body. He just needed to stall. What he would do then, he didn’t know. He was chained to a wall and his stealth abilities were useless.
“Oh no, I never leave anything unfinished. The Gods promised me great prizes. I will deal with this little formality,” Synlair drawled. “Then, I will move on. North sounds good.” His lips twisted in a parody of a smile, and Ian thought of Ahnika and Lyra. They would be no match for this madman who believed he was a messenger of the Gods. They would be helpless without their bonds. At the moment, however, Megreria wasn’t faring any better. Ian schooled his face to stoicism. When he didn’t reply, the Sorcerer’s lips thinned.
“It’s just a matter of time now,” the creature crooned. “Soon you will all be here, and we can start the party. I know your woman is going to taste wonderful.” The man’s tongue darted out like a snake to wet his thin, nonexistent lips. Ian burst forward, his hands tightening into fists. The Sorcerer cackled. Glaring and cursing, the Shadow pulled on his chains, but he was unable to do more.
Chapter 31
Seb
Seb led Clay past the guards at the inner gates and into the palace. It felt like a trap closing on them because no one glanced twice at their passing. They couldn’t turn back, though. Kiarra was in there, and they were getting her out, trap or not.
Their bond strengthened and pulsed momentarily. One of them was pulling power, but Seb couldn’t tell which one. As they entered the palace, a loud roar rose from the Military Quarter. He fervently hoped Mason and Reed were all right and the roar was a good sign. The thread which led to Kiarra was still dark at the end, like a rope disappearing into a dark hole.
Only one guard questioned them. Clay smoothly directed the man elsewhere, though it turned his gut to do so. Many of the guards were enchanted. They stood straight and stared into the distance. It was eerie and strange, and the odd sight sent a shiver down Seb’s spine.
“I felt horrible doing that,” Clay whispered into Seb’s mind after he had convinced the man to ignore them. “Imagine what that power could do in the hands of someone truly evil. The person could make someone see or feel anything they wish.”
Seb shared Clay’s shudder but didn’t respond. Each of them possessed their unique abilities. Combined together, they seemed like an unstoppable force. Why then, were they having such difficulty retrieving Kiarra? Their skills were nothing compared to dark magic.
The palace was cold and bleak, despite the warm day outside. The pall of death and wrongness that covered the city also cloaked the palace halls.
Seb clenched his jaw. “This feels wrong.”
Clay nodded and veered off into an empty room. Seb followed without question and closed the door behind them. “We’re walking into a trap,” Clay said firmly, not glancing at the single couch in the room. The scent of something familiar filled the air, but Seb couldn’t place it.
Seb sat on the couch and groaned, holding his head in his hands. Kiarra needed them, and the Sorcerer was luring them to his cave. “What in the Fates?” he asked, snatching the glittering object from beneath the couch. Clay’s eyes widened.
“Isn’t that the dagger Ian was supposed to carry?”
Seb nodded. The gold-bladed weapon shone in the low light of the room. Seb reached for Ian along the bond. He was still alive, but his energy was muted and dulled like Kiarra’s. He was simultaneously frightened and relieved. Besides Mason, Ian was the strongest of them all. How had the Sorcerer captured him?
Clay balanced on his crutch and held out a hand. Seb passed him the dagger, and Clay slipped it into his waistband. He didn’t know what had led the Merchant to this room or why Ian had lost control of the dagger, but it seemed the Fates might still be on their side. He had to believe they were watching and helping them in some manner or he risked being dragged under with hopelessness. The dagger would have been the most useful in Ian’s hands, but it was better in Clay’s than his.
“Trap or not, we have to keep going,” Clay whispered, echoing his thoughts.
“So we’re just supposed to walk in there and let him restrain us like I’m certain he has done with Kiarra and Ian?” Seb’s tone rang with bitt
erness. He felt helpless. How could he use his Planning skills against a dark Sorcerer?
Clay shrugged. “Do you have a better idea? We have no other choice. We need to be closer, and there are no hiding spaces in the throne room. Ian could have made his own hiding place, but we cannot. Mason and Reed will soon follow; maybe they can catch him unawares while he is busy with us.”
Seb looked at him with tortured hazel eyes. “You realize that’s the worst plan ever, right?”
“Yes, I realize that, but at least we will all be in the same room. Maybe our bond won’t be hindered.”
Seb stood abruptly, a plan forming in his mind. His skin slithered at the thought of what he would have to do, but it might give them a small advantage. “What if I could make the Sorcerer think we aren’t as tightly bonded as we are?” he asked into Clay’s mind.
“What do you mean?” Clay responded, maintaining the mind-speak. Seb transmitted the image in pictures, and Clay nodded resolutely. He turned his face to the side. “Do it.” The Merchant said aloud.
Seb threw a punch at Clay’s rugged face. It might not have done much damage, but Clay held his head still so the blow didn’t glance off his cheek. Guilt filled Seb when blood dripped from his friend’s split lip. Clay clapped a hand on his shoulder, ensured the dagger was hidden, and nudged him from the room. This was probably the second worst idea, but they were running out of options.
Chapter 32
Kiarra
I hurt. My chest hurt. My legs and arms hurt. I was chilled, my toes were practically frozen, and my throat was parched from lack of water. But, most of all, the pain tortured my soul. I was useless and weak without the connection to my men. It was there, but not strong enough. I didn’t open my eyes; I didn’t want to face reality just yet. Reality was nothing without my matches. Instead of a blooming golden ball in my chest, all that remained was a small flickering light. The absence of the soulbonds with my men devastated me.
Harmony of Their Souls - A Reverse Harem Fantasy: Soul Tenders Book 3 Page 19