by B. T. Narro
“Now I have promised what I can do,” Hawthen said. “What do you promise, in front of our troops, the Wind Knights, and these psychics? How would you like this war to end?”
Allephon’s legs buckled. He caught himself before falling.
“Are you all right?” asked one of his nearby men.
“Fine.” He addressed Hawthen with drooping eyelids. “I would like this war to end with no more casualties. I will consider your request and send notice tomorrow.” Allephon lowered his head, blinked longer than necessary, then turned as if to walk away.
“Why must you leave so suddenly? Are you ill?”
“No. I’m leaving because there is nothing more to discuss.” He continued moving away from Hawthen, clearly making an effort to keep his gait steady. But he halted abruptly as if struck with a thought. “You didn’t ask me how my father died.” He turned back to the other king.
“Because I don’t need to know. I only require confirmation that you are the new ruler. I wouldn’t force any man, king or not, to speak on his father’s death shortly after losing him.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
Hawthen looked at Allephon sideways. “If you’re implying I had something to do with it, I will happily answer in front of the psychics that I did not.”
“No, it wasn’t you. It was my sister, Beatrix, who poisoned him.”
The silence of the crowd broke, Desil letting out a sound of shock with them. He met Reela’s gaze. She seemed pained as she shrugged.
No—it couldn’t be the truth. It couldn’t even be what Allephon believed. Beatrix had been gone during the time her father had fallen ill, and he was dead by the time she returned.
“Lies!” yelled Beatrix from somewhere in the crowd. “It was Allephon who killed our father! Psychics, why haven’t you said anything?”
Half the crowd spoke the name “Beatrix” or “princess” in shock as they parted to let her through. Allephon glanced over at her almost lazily. That proved it for Desil. Allephon had taken something to allow him to lie. Desil had never heard of such a potion, but it was the only explanation for the man’s complete lack of emotion. Allephon moved behind his guards sluggishly, no doubt drowsy from whatever he’d taken.
A swarm of men closed in on Beatrix. “Say it again, Allephon, now that I’m close enough to tell if you’re lying!”
“Seize her,” he told his guards.
“Say it!” Beatrix screamed furiously. “Say that I killed our father.”
“You killed our father.”
She held steady as she squinted at him, her arms grabbed by two men. “How are you lying without your energy showing it? You must’ve taken something! Everything he’s said is not to be trusted. Reela—”
“Enough, Beatrix!” An older man emerged from the crowd. It was Jimmin, who’d almost led Beatrix into a trap outside Effie’s tavern…the man who’d proven he could lie to psychics. “Haven’t you done enough damage to this family already? Let yourself be taken to the castle and we will work out the truth.”
Through torture. Desil had to do something. He started to move toward Reela, the only one who might be able to get Beatrix out of this, but the king’s guards formed a quick ring to protect Allephon, inadvertently separating Reela from Desil.
He pushed as he tried to circle around. “Reela!” he yelled. “Reela!”
It was a good thing she was tall. They found each other over the shoulders and heads of a dozen people. “It’s true what Beatrix says,” he told her.
Reela said something as she nodded. She understands—good. But now what could Desil do about Beatrix? She continued to call Allephon a liar and a cheat as men in full suits of armor dragged her through the crowd, away from her brother. They suddenly all yelled out in pain. Beatrix burst through unencumbered with a face of fury as if she would kill Allephon right here.
“You poisoned him or you paid someone else to do it! Question me, psychics. I know it must be true! At least hear me when I say I didn’t do it! Where are our other siblings, Allephon? Did you have them killed like you tried to do with me? Reela—”
Two men tackled Beatrix, the three of them disappearing from Desil’s view. Women near Beatrix screamed. Others yelled for the guards to stop. Unable to see them on the ground, Desil tried to push through, but there were too many people trying to get closer to gawk. By the time Desil made it to Beatrix, she had been beaten unconscious, blood smeared across her forehead.
Appearing seemingly out of nowhere, Kirnich threw off the man on top of her. “She’s a princess, bastial hell! What have the lot of you done?”
“Take Kirnich as well,” Allephon ordered. “He might have helped her poison my father.”
Desil shouted that Allephon was wrong to do this, hoping to incite the crowd, but his voice was lost among the others screaming for this to stop as Kirnich started a brawl with the armored men attempting to detain him. He shoved back two of them, and they fell atop a couple of onlookers.
Other soldiers took out their swords and pointed them at Kirnich. He heaved out breaths of anger as he lifted his arms in surrender.
There was no stopping this arrest now. Desil had to make a choice.
He took the two vials of the smoke potion from his pocket and untied them. He slid one into each boot. There was just enough room for them to fit uncomfortably without breaking, he hoped.
He tried shoving his way through the circle of armored men to get to Kirnich, knowing he would be stopped and accepting it. “I want to hear what the princess has to say!” Desil yelled. “Let her speak in front of a psychic.”
“Agreed!” announced a few others who heard Desil over the racket.
“Get back.” A soldier shoved Desil with his forearm. Desil pushed back, focusing his rage at Allephon onto these men. He made it within their circle, where he pushed away any arm that came near.
They barked for him to move back. The attention was too much—Allephon would question who he was if he didn’t end this quickly. Beatrix groaned in confusion. Soldiers pressed Kirnich onto the ground with hands and knees on his back. Desil was the only one left fighting, the crowd following the orders of these armored men and moving away.
“It’s not right to stop the princess before she can say something in front of the psychics!” Desil exclaimed. “If you’re taking them to prison for speaking up, you might as well take me too. I will not shut up.” He spoke only to the guards, fearful that if Allephon heard, Desil would be questioned about his identity. He stopped fighting back and surrendered. Someone pushed him down from behind. A lot of weight pressed him into the dirt.
“If that’s what you want, fine,” grumbled someone in his ear. It wasn’t Allephon’s voice, and that’s all that mattered.
As they dragged Desil, Kirnich, and a half-conscious Beatrix away from the kings and the crowd, Desil heard many timidly asking to hear more from Beatrix. All were ignored, except Hawthen, who spoke adamantly to Reela.
“The princess’ accusation cannot be overlooked. You have acted strangely, Allephon, as if drugged. I don’t know of a potion that would allow you to lie to psychics, but I don’t know of the impossibility of one, either. We must meet again in front of the Wind Knights before anything is decided, and you must be under surveillance for hours before our meeting. There won’t be a peaceful end to this war if you don’t agree to these terms.”
“I have to deal with my sister now,” Allephon said, emotionless. “We will discuss this later.”
“Will we? That is up to you.” Hawthen didn’t wait for an answer, whistling for his troops to leave with him as he showed Allephon his back.
Allephon might not have shown any anger at this moment, but there was no doubt in Desil’s mind that his full wrath would fall upon Beatrix as soon as he had her behind closed doors.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
No one else was taken away besides the three of them. Desil was surprised that out of the entire crowd of brave soldiers, not one had tried to stop the arrest of the princess. But
as Desil recalled the feeling he’d had escaping from the castle just recently, it began to make sense. The king’s power was immense and not to be tested. Desil wouldn’t have stood up to these armored men if he wasn’t prepared to be arrested.
“Separate them,” Allephon announced. “They are not to communicate with each other.”
“And this boy?” asked one of the two men holding Desil by his arms. They were just about to shove him into a jail set up on a wagon.
“Separate everyone.” Allephon didn’t bother looking. He walked weakly toward the awaiting horses. Jimmin offered his arm, but Allephon refused with a lift of his hands. Desil lowered his head, hoping not to be seen by the older councilman. Jimmin might not recognize Desil as one of the four who’d fought off the attack at the tavern, thanks to all the dirt he had collected since then, but it wasn’t worth the risk.
They were on the outskirts of the camp. More of Allephon’s loyal troops brought out horses and wagons. How many more men than those outside Tenred were allied with the new king? Five hundred? And did they know what Allephon had done to his father? Perhaps they’d even gone along with it.
Desil heard Beatrix speaking to someone from her small jail on another wagon. “Don’t do this. You are supporting a traitor.” At least she sounded like her old self, although groggy and in pain.
“Shall I gag her?” asked someone near the princess.
“Yes, if she keeps talking,” Allephon answered. “I must lie down. Where is my carriage?”
Could these men really know the truth and not care? Desil refused to believe it.
Jimmin escorted Allephon to his covered carriage. The king got in with a groan and drew the shades across the windows. Desil didn’t fight as men moved him into an identical wagon as the ones where they’d locked up Kirnich and Beatrix. Kirnich was too far away to hear clearly, but he sounded to be ordering the men around him to release him and the princess. Desil feared he would hear his own name from Kirnich’s mouth. He listened for it as someone spoke with Kirnich about how they had to take them to the castle, but there was no mention of Desil. Hopefully Kirnich knew keeping Desil’s identity hidden was the only way they would survive.
There was one other hope, Desil realized, but he wasn’t sure he could really think of it with anything other than dread. Basen, Leida, and Adriya could come for them. How they could break everyone out of the dungeons in the castle, Desil had no idea. They would probably get arrested in the process.
The Wind Knights didn’t have the power to force Allephon to release his sister. They probably couldn’t even get her out for questioning. All they could do was organize another meeting between Allephon and Hawthen, supervising Allephon hours before to ensure he didn’t take any potions, as Tenred’s king had ordered.
Allephon would not agree to another meeting, nor would he give up half the Academy. He probably didn’t want peace. He’d lied about Beatrix killing their father, so he could’ve lied about everything he’d told Hawthen. Allephon had called the meeting to convince his father’s troops—now his troops—that he meant to end this war peacefully, and that Hawthen didn’t. Allephon made the king of Tenred out to be their villain, fully responsible for this war and all the deaths that followed. But talk of a potion that allowed him to lie undetected by psychics had ruined that strategy.
The truth would come out eventually. Desil would make sure of it, or die trying.
It wasn’t until the horses reached the start of the Fjallejon Pathway that Desil remembered there was more to this than stopping Allephon. The explosive needed to be crafted out of the right ingredients. Perhaps Basen would go on without Desil, Beatrix, and Kirnich.
Desil might never see Leida again.
He felt his first prick of fear as they entered the narrow channel of the pathway. He’d never crossed through directly, for this road was reserved for men and women serving either king, men like traders, emissaries, and messengers. Desil had gone around these mountains, even climbed to the top on the opposite—southern—end shortly after returning from Kanoan. The mountains were hundreds of feet tall, nearly vertical on either side of the thin canal between them, called the Fjallejon Pathway. This road snaked through the mountains, offering the only way through. Rock was still connected in many places above Desil’s head, sometimes creating long tunnels. One became so dark at its center that a few mages needed to light the path.
The horses slowly made their way over the bowl-shaped ground. No more than two could fit side by side on the even ground in the middle. Desil’s wagon rattled constantly and tilted during some of the turns. He hoped Allephon wouldn’t get a wink of rest.
Desil had heard that messengers could make the trip from Tenred to Kyrro’s capital in one full day on foot. With horses, it should be faster, but Desil didn’t know how long it would take. All of the men had removed their armor by then, many walking alongside horses instead of riding them. That would change as soon as they got back onto open land. Desil wanted to ask them how they could live with themselves knowing what Allephon had done to Fernan, but doing so would reveal what he knew and who he was. Allephon must have the names of everyone working with Basen, maybe even a description of Desil from Micklin by now. Desil could only remain silent and wait, hoping he wouldn’t see Micklin, Erwal, or the Girgis brother again; hoping no one would ask his name in front of a psychic.
I’d better act quickly as soon as we get to the castle.
It took hours before Desil’s heart finally calmed. They’d made it out of the narrow Fjallejon Pathway by then, and Desil had decided to make use of this time by trying to rest. He would be busy once he reached the dungeon, unable to sleep. He curled up on the hard surface of the wagon. He’d left his bag, with everything he’d brought in it, with Leida. He thought of her as he shut his eyes.
Someone tried to contact him while he was asleep. He nearly awoke as he startled, finding himself floating over the ocean of energy.
“Leida?” He had a voice! It was weak, as if Desil was sickly, but he could hear himself nonetheless. It was a starting point at least. Feeling a lack of strength was incomparably better to feeling nothing at all. He mustered his strength and shouted.
“Leida!”
It hardly sounded louder than the squeak of a mouse. He stopped to feel for her. The waves of blue energy crashed into each other as the wind picked up. The watery energy turned red and orange as it speared into the air. Something seemed to be happening beneath Desil, the energy rising up beneath his feet to lift him into the air. He felt to have some control over it, but he was too scared to go any higher. The water shrank away and calmed.
Desil didn’t fall back to where he’d been but floated out. He sank slowly as he went, feeling as if he might fall into the energy at any moment. But with his fear came another feeling—a connection to Leida somewhere past the horizon. He screamed to her once more, his voice dying a few feet away.
His control over his consciousness slipped. He fell as if he’d missed a step while walking along a ledge.
He crashed into the water energy. It was warm.
He awoke with a startle, to a man laughing. “How are you falling asleep? It’s not even night.”
Because I haven’t had a good night’s rest since I left the tavern. “Did I say anything?” Desil asked. Uttering Leida’s name around the wrong pair of ears could make escape impossible.
The man ignored his question. “You must not think you’re guilty of anything if you can sleep. It’s always the same of men your age.”
Desil tried to rub the blur out of his eyes. It was evening. They were halfway along the path from the Academy to the capital. It wouldn’t be long before they reached the castle. The man speaking to him was on horseback beside the wagon. He didn’t seem familiar.
“What am I charged with?” Desil asked.
“Interfering with an arrest.”
“What’s the punishment for that?”
“Whatever the king sees fit. If I were you, I would think twice
about continuing to defend the princess. She’s guilty of many things. Attempting to protect her could make you guilty of those same things.” The man spoke quietly as if he shouldn’t be talking.
Desil wanted to ask if he really thought Beatrix was capable of killing her father. There was no way she could’ve done it, even if she had been at the castle. But could Allephon really have done it? Even after everything Desil had seen of the new king, it was still difficult to imagine him putting poison in his father’s ale. It made him wonder if Beatrix could be wrong. Desil supposed it was possible that Allephon had told the truth in front of the Wind Knights. Just like Reela’s lie, Allephon had done well to keep most of his answers ambiguous, as if he feared psychics would catch him lying.
It shouldn’t matter to Desil unless the opportunity for revenge arose. He felt heat in his chest as he realized that it might soon if everything went according to his plan.
This confusion was dangerous. He’d better make a decision about whether to trust Beatrix’s claims about her brother.
“What’s your name?” asked the man on horseback.
“Benedict,” Desil lied. “People call me Ben.”
“I’m Ionrad. I wouldn’t worry, Ben. Just do what you’re asked without insubordination, tell the truth, and you should be back outside Tenred helping the army soon enough. What were you doing there?”
Desil took a better look at this man who was interested in him for reasons he hadn’t yet figured out. With his bald head and round face, the stranger looked nothing like Desil’s father. Yet, there was something in Ionrad’s eyes—an innate kindness—that reminded Desil of Wade.
What could Desil say he was doing with the army? He thought of what might’ve happened if he’d never met Basen at the lake that night, which now seemed so long ago.
“I’ve been bringing ale to sell, sir.”
“Then we’d better get you back there as soon as we can.” Ionrad laughed. “Good touch with ‘sir.’ I don’t care much for it, but address the other guards that way if they speak to you.”