Escape: The Seam Travelers Book One

by Jason Nugent

  Swinging his arms in opposing circles, joining the wrists at the completion of the move, he gave the words volume, then yanked his arms apart. Though unseen to the normal eye, the wards protecting the house were ripped open, leaving a large gap surrounding the glass doors.

  Satisfied with his work, Rhoden stepped forward and tried the door. Locked. Opening a lock was child's play compared to dispelling a ward. But the effort it took to pass the wards took their toll. Rhoden was forced to rest a moment before opening the door. Not that it took much energy, but if he faced more magic inside, he wanted to be able to respond with power. He spoke the words, and reached for the handle. A spark lit, burning his fingers and repelling him backward.

  Shocked and confused, he studied the structure while cradling his injured fingers, wondering what he had missed. With another wave of his arms he sent out another discovery spell, only to find the wards had re-established their position around the house.

  The sight angered him. Phetrix was not in the same class of mage as he. His spells did not have the power nor complexity to stand before him. The thought was unthinkable. Once more he dispelled the wards and once more was repelled at the door. Whoever set these wards had superior knowledge and ability. Perhaps this world had mages of its own.

  Shaking his hand, he once more found the wards had regenerated. This was impossible. He refused to accept Phetrix was his superior in anything.

  “I'm going to cut the wards off. As soon as I do, you need to get inside the house by whatever means necessary. Understood?”

  The big man nodded.

  Rhoden prepared his spell and cleared his mind. This would take more effort than he predicted and may leave him drained. He made the gestures, but when it came time to pull his arms apart to cast the wards aside, this time, he held his arms wide to keep them apart. He strained from the effort. His muscles protested as if he were holding a heavy weight. The bodyguard picked up a chair and pitched it through the glass doors.

  He then stepped through as Rhoden released his grip. Once an opening was made the wards would only cover to that point. He started forward as a violent explosion came from within the house and the bodyguard flew backward out of the building.

  Rhoden paused staring open-mouthed at the bloody heap off mangled flesh at his feet.

  “They told me you'd come.”

  The voice startled Rhoden almost as much as the explosion. He looked up to see a woman standing in the doorway brandishing what he assumed was a local weapon of some sort. Wisps of smoke curled up from the twin cylinders, their dark openings aimed at him. Without knowing what the weapon did, Rhoden dove to the side as another explosion occurred. A stinging pain ignited in his leg.

  He rolled, coming to one knee. The weapon was bent in half, the woman worked with frantic movements jamming small cylinders inside the chambers. He had no idea what they did, but did not wish to find out. Unsure he had adequate power left to cast a spell strong enough to stop her from hurling the fiery bolts at him, he switched to the stored power in his ring, aimed it at her and spoke the word that released the energy. Two vivid red streams raced outward, catching the woman as if in a net and hurtled her back inside the house.

  Rhoden raced forward, leaped over the blood-soaked mutilated body, across the threshold and went inside the dwelling. He slid a knife out from within his jacket. The house was dark, but something moaned and writhed to his left. He snapped his fingers and a small globe of light formed in his palm. He lifted his hand and pushed it forward, revealing the woman pinned against the wall, held in place by the red strands.

  Her wild eyes went wider as he approached her. She struggled in vain, kicking her legs, but the harder she fought the tighter the bands became. She gasped for breath and ceased moving. She eyed him with mixed hate and fear.

  “So, you are the guardian of the princess.”

  Before he could say another word, a light shown from outside the house. He stepped to the front window and spied a vehicle on the path next to the house. A sinister smile spread across his face as the princess got out.

  “Too bad you failed in your duty.”

  Twenty-Nine

  THE DOOR RATTLED AS a key was inserted. The woman tried to cry out, but Rhoden silenced her with a backhand swipe, sending another red stream that slapped across her mouth. Her head bounced hard as the band stuck her to the wall, serving the dual purpose of knocking her out.

  Rhoden stepped back into the shadows of the darkened house. The door opened and excited voices talked over each other. The princess entered, followed by a tall slender dark-skinned girl. The same one he had seen her with before.

  “I know, right?” the second girl said. “He’s so big and girl, those muscles.”

  The princess laughed, then froze, steps from the door. “Why are the lights off?” she asked.

  “Was there a power outage?” the second girl said.

  “Maybe. Mom. Are you here?” She reached for the light switch and flicked it on. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but the sight of her mother stuck to the wall two feet off the floor left the terrified girl speechless.

  The other girl said, “What the ...”

  A man stood in the door frame. In an instant he understood the danger and moved to enter. Rhoden swept his arm out and the door slammed shut behind the girls. They jumped and screamed. The man pounded on the door further exciting the girls into near hysteria.

  Rhoden stepped forward. He grabbed the princess by the arm and pulled her roughly behind him.

  “Wait. Who ...? Help! Shree.”

  Shree ran forward, grabbed Rhoden's fingers and ripped them back with such force one cracked. He howled in pain, his grip broken. The two girls ran for the door, as it burst open, slamming against the wall. The man stepped in, fire in his eyes and fury in his massive fists. He eyed the stranger in his house and without looking at the girls yelled, “Run!”

  He advanced on Rhoden. Still fighting the pain and with his finger bent backward, casting a defensive spell would be difficult. He reached into a pocket with the uninjured hand and pulled out the amulet he usually wore around his neck, but before he could activate the power stored within, the man was upon him.

  A fist struck with blinding speed, shattering his jaw and sending him sprawling. He tumbled in a heap beneath the woman's feet. The amulet flew across the room. The man paused, shocked at the sight of his wife hanging on the wall, her head lolled to the side, like some grotesque piece of modern art. Then the shock morphed to rage and he advanced with murder in his eyes.

  Rhoden was too stunned to react. He attempted to crawl away from the crazed man, but he had nowhere to run. His hands extended for him and he whimpered in defense. But just as he feared the end had come, a savage blow was dealt to the man, driving him to his knees.

  Behind him stood the second bodyguard, a man equal in size and ability. But, as he moved to deliver the killing blow, the guardian shot a foot back, connecting with the bodyguard’s knee, driving it backward. The bodyguard let out a shrill shriek and dropped hard to the floor.

  The guardian stood, shook his head once and kicked the guard so hard in the face it lifted him off the floor and slammed him down on his back. He paused over the man to ensure he wasn't getting back up, then returned his attention to Rhoden.

  Rhoden crawled into a corner, curled his knees to his chest and cried out in despair. He wanted to close his eyes, to not witness what was about to be done to him, but they refused to obey. His panicked mind raced for a spell he could use without the use of his fingers, but none came to mind. In desperation, he lifted the hand with the broken finger and the ring. The guardian stormed forward, glancing once at his mate hanging from the wall and lifted his mammoth boot to stomp the life out of Rhoden. However, before the foot descended, a blinding white bolt of light, sharp as a physical sword, pierced him from behind. The tip protruded from his massive chest. He arced backward, his face contorted in a mask of agony. He emitted no sound other than a faint gurgling de
ep within his barrel chest, then the magical blade vanished and the guardian fell to the floor with a heavy thud, revealing Mortas, an evil sneer on his dark face and a glow of triumph in his eyes.

  For a moment there was only silence, then, from the outer door, screams filled the house. The two girls stood on the porch, their hands bound by something unseen. Their faces contorted in horror at the fallen guardian. DeWayne stood behind them, his mouth agape, his face ashen.

  “Come Rhoden,” Mortas said, in a voice so deep and different from his own.

  Rhoden wondered what demon Morta made a deal with to wield such raw and powerful magic. Or perhaps he was possessed by some demon. One thing was sure. Rhoden had underestimated his king’s power.

  Mortas said,“Let us be away from this place.”

  Rhoden regrouped his runaway emotions and bottled his fear. He had never been hit so hard before. His jaw hurt, his finger ached and his body was drained. Standing, he clutched the injured hand and walked to the door. DeWayne was already pushing the girls toward the street. Mortas bent over his bodyguard, whispered a few words and snapped his fingers. The man's eyes shot open. He stood in a stiff manner as if someone else controlled his strings.

  They reached the van and a strange new sound filled the night.

  DeWayne said, “Someone called the cops, man. We gotsta go.” Rhoden climbed in the front. The bodyguard sat in the back with the two captive girls, but Mortas, with a fire still lit in his eyes, stood waiting to see what would arrive.

  “Sir,” DeWayne said to Rhoden, panic replacing nervous. “He don't want to be messing with the police.”

  Rhoden leaned out the window. “Your highness, we have what we came for. Let us be gone.”

  Mortas blinked twice as if coming out of a trance. Without a word, he entered the van and DeWayne sped off, the sliding door still open and Mortas' head hanging out to see what was coming. Sirens growing in volume, the reflection of the police lights bouncing off houses on the next block, DeWayne made a sharp, angled turn at high speed, that rocked everyone back in their seats.

  The girls screamed at the top of their lungs until Mortas grew annoyed. He looked at the zombie-like guard and mumbled something while he snapped his finger. The guard wrapped an arm around each girls’ head and clamped a massive hand over their mouths.

  Mortas faced the girls and waved his hands. He spoke several words and their eyes glazed over. The guard lowered his arms and sat back. They now had the same zombie expression on their face.

  Rhoden pushed aside his pain and reflected on what he’d learned tonight about his king. The man had obviously been practicing dark magic. Creating a zombie took the skill of a higher-level mage. If Mortas could do that, he’d progressed much farther than Rhoden thought. What else could Mortas do? And what did the discovery of this new ability mean for him.

  As the car raced toward their escape route, Rhoden wondered if he’d let slip his plans somehow. Clearly, the king had been developing his magic without Rhoden’s assistance, or even discussing it with him. The thought gave Rhoden more than one bad feeling. He’d have to tread easy for the next few days and try to decipher what it all meant.

  Thirty

  PHETRIX STRUGGLED WITH the knowledge Kol shared. Was it real? Did it matter where he gained it? He desperately wanted it to be true, but now he had a choice to make.

  Would he chase after a rumor and seek the King and Queen or would he return to the seam and the other dimension to rejoin Samuel and bring the heirs back?

  The choice was maddening. As he blindly walked along the hard packed dirt streets, he barely registered the commotion happening several blocks away. It wasn’t until a wiry man slammed into him, knocking him over, that he realized what was going on.

  “Sorry mister!”

  The man, dirty with his ribs showing through a tear in his shirt, scrambled to his feet and ran away.

  “Get back here you filthy rebel!”

  Two guards dressed in black with the white snowflake emblazoned on their chests chased the man. Overhead, a Seeker flew across the sky.

  Phetrix grumbled. The man might well have been a rebel, but he doubted if the man knew anything about the King and Queen. Their cause had attracted a great many people, mostly those who were crushed under the weight of Mortas’s reign.

  The guards followed the man around a corner. The Seeker screeched above and darted downward.

  “Poor soul. Be free my friend.”

  Phetrix hoped the man wasn’t caught, but felt the outcome was a foregone conclusion.

  Returning to his thoughts, he wondered what to do with Kol’s information.

  He’d spent his life with the knowledge of the prophecy. When he discovered Erthic’s ability, it was stunning. Never had he imagined he’d be the one to shepherd the chosen ones to maturity. Elysande’s ability sealed their fate. He knew then they were in grave danger. Not that he knew an attack was imminent, but there had always been an undercurrent of discontent in the kingdom, it manifesting in the attack lead by Mortas.

  “Whenever there is more than one person gathered together, there is always a chance of people getting angry,” Samuel was fond of saying. It was his way of soothing Phetrix’s fears that an uprising was imminent. As it turned out, it was, but with Mortas leading the way, it took on a more sinister tone.

  “Mortas Frost,” Phetrix mumbled. He’d made his way through Ulti and was on a lonely road which led to the mountains and his home within their slopes.

  Mortas was an angry man and had always been for as long as Phetrix remembered. Serving within his army felt like the right thing until the evil side of Mortas reared up. When he looked back on his time with him, it was a wonder he hadn’t seen the darkness earlier.

  Phetrix risked drawing attention to himself and created a small ball of flame to light his way. He’d grown tired of traveling in darkness. Loneliness was a constant companion he wanted to be rid of.

  The road wound through the forest, the darkness of night oppressive. Eventually, the road narrowed until it fell away to the foot of the mountains. Only those familiar with the path would notice it. Phetrix had used his powers to cover them as best he could without losing the path himself.

  An owl sounded in the distance. Twigs snapped, making him spin toward the sound. Did the Seekers spot me?

  Forcing the ball of flame to grow larger, he saw the source of his fear. A small raccoon scurried across the forest floor, chittering at his bright light.

  Phetrix clutched his chest, letting the deep breath out he didn’t realize he was holding in.

  “I need to make things right. It’s far past time I fixed what Mortas destroyed. The heirs are ready. They’ll have to be. The rebels will need guidance, and I can do that.”

  He turned from the raccoon and found his way back home.

  Inside the cave, he covered the entrance with a bearskin and ignited a torch. In the far back corner he’d hidden the journal Samuel left for him. Inside were spells and information regarding the other world. Phetrix dug out the book and sat next to the torch to read.

  The rebels need guidance. They need hope. They need the heirs. If I could find the King and Queen, maybe I’d be able to find the other seam and take us all through it. With Samuel waiting, we’d have the power to overcome anything.

  Phetrix opened the book, but the vision of the man running from the guards returned to his memory. He had to do something now to make things right. He had to act with an urgency he’d lacked for years. What good would the heirs be if there were no people to lead?

  Tossing the book against the wall, Phetrix pushed his face into his hands. He’d had the ability to stop all this, if only he would’ve tried. With the powers he possessed, he should have been able to do more than whisk away the children with a few caregivers he forced into service.

  Did he do the right thing? Had he miscalculated the lengths by which Mortas intended on securing his reign? Thinking of the rebel running from the guards, clinging to the hope that
one day the nightmare would all be over, made him angry. Mostly at himself. He was better than that. He’d need to be to set things right.

  Thirty-One

  THE DAY AFTER KOL’S admission, Phetrix awoke with a pounding headache. A thunderstorm erupted outside the cave, the thunder doing nothing to help his head. Rubbing his temples, he wove a spell of healing on himself that dulled the pain. Had another mage done the same to him, it would’ve rid him entirely of the throbbing.

  However, it had been close to five years since he met with anyone from the Order. As far as he knew they were all dead, executed by Mortas.

  Mortas decreed they be disbanded and labeled as traitors, with Rhoden the lone exception. Phetrix was in Ulti the day he heard the news, begging for alms and attentively listening to the crowd.

  At first he heard it in passing.

  “Did you hear Mortas has outlawed the Order?” one woman said to another as they walked by, ignoring the haggard looking old man Phetrix portrayed himself to be.

  “But they’ve protected Chevalon since as long as anyone can remember,” the woman replied.

  “I know, but they’ve gone afoul of his ways.”

  Their conversation followed them, their words piquing his interest.

  Another couple walked by, dropped a coin in his bowl, and were discussing the current situation.

  “Can you believe it? He actually did it,” the woman said to the man.

  “He’s gone mad with his own power. It’s amazing what—”

  Phetrix lost the rest of their words as others walked by, a concerned murmur rising amongst them.

  He never thought it possible that the Order would be subject to the whims of a ruler. They were above petty political differences. That is, until Mortas disrupted the entire world order.

  Even during the near civil war caused by Prince Hemeri and Princess Ninon, the Order remained neutral. They were above the fray and they were responsible for rebuilding what those two tried to destroy.