An Emperor's Gamble (Legend of Tal: Book 3)

by J. D. L. Rosell

  A little power, he mused. A little control would be enough. And perhaps, if the circumstances align, an opportunity.

  "I am your captive, Hashele, as utterly yours as I could possibly be. Yet it seems you are the one who cannot help but taunt."

  Her stiff features twitched again. Instead of answering, the fell sorceress jerked her head away. Tal followed her gaze and found the walls of this room in stark contrast to the rest of the palace as well. Wood and silk proliferated. Under different circumstances, they would have made the chamber, even large as it was, rather cozy. Broad red curtains hung over the middle sections of three of the walls, as if hiding broad bay windows, though he knew from the architecture of the castle that would be impossible.

  As he looked up, he realized just how different this room was from the others. Instead of the close ceiling he expected, a dark sky reigned. He felt a chill pass through him, as if he indeed stood outside in the crisp night air. Stars dusted the sky, and the two moons peered over the edges of the walls, lending their ghostly light to the ambience. An illusion, no doubt, and one he could tease apart when he concentrated. Yet he could not banish the sense of vastness, nor ignore how small that great open sky made him feel.

  He looked back to the Extinguished, but she seemed no more willing to talk than before. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, she whipped her head around and spoke in a harsh whisper.

  "Kneel."

  At his hesitation to obey the command, cold pain dampened the smoldering fire of his sorcery. Still, Tal resisted a moment longer. He had not bent a knee before Aldric or Geminia. He had no intentions of kneeling now if he could help it.

  But the reawakening of his power did nothing to curb the agony. Tal felt his will sap away and the strength leave his limbs. It was not burning alive, but like slowly freezing, where torpor and malaise become the greatest enemies and pain the welcoming arms of relief. Less to comply and more because he could stand no longer, Tal collapsed to his knees, the dull pain of impact nothing compared to what the Binding Ring inflicted upon him. As he obeyed Hashele's command, the cold hand slowly eased its grip.

  "Better." The Extinguished did not hide her gloating as she paced around him. "You are strong, yes — a stone that might break the wheel if allowed. But you are mine now, Skaldurak. I have removed you as a threat, and our Lord will reward me richly for my accomplishment."

  Tal spoke through gritted teeth. "Why not bring me to him then? Why come here at all?"

  "Cease your questions. I tire of them."

  He tried to defy the order and speak anyway. But as he did, the cold agony reemerged, this time in his throat. Tal clenched his jaw and tried to force out any word, but all he could manage was a strangled gasp. His sorcery reared within him, almost begging to be unleashed on the invasive magic. Only with a last effort did he restrain it. The numbing pain eased, and he leaned forward onto his hands, breathing raggedly.

  "Better yet." The gloating in her voice needled almost as much as the Binding Ring's punishment. Almost, he thought with a bitter smile.

  He heard the door open behind him.

  All pointless rebellion was at once quelled. Remaining on his knees, Tal twisted around to see the newcomer. He swept back the hairs that had fallen in his face, but paused midway through the act, astonishment freezing him in place.

  Framed in the doorway, his mouth set in a regretful smile, stood Pim.

  Ava’duala

  Garin tried to decide whether he was relieved or terrified to see the walls of Kavaugh loom over his unfortunate caravan.

  The past day had progressed with tense anticipation. After Rolan's narrowly averted torture the night before, Garin and the others had been herded back into bondage. All the others still had their sorcery-dampening bracers on, and so were swiftly and easily tied back together. When it came to Garin, however, the Ravagers seemed perplexed as to how they should proceed. He had stood, held tightly between a sylvan and an Easterner human, as the minotaur who appeared to be in charge of the others barked at them in their language. Glimmers of the words' meaning flickered past Garin's awareness, but he couldn't be sure if he made them up or if his attunement to the Worldtongue and the Worldsong aided his understanding.

  Moments afterward, the Ravager captain made himself clear when he approached Garin and thrust a finger in his face. "No run," he said in heavily accented Reachtongue. "Run, we kill boy."

  Garin swallowed and nodded. His throat felt parched and his body weak. His wrist, lacerated by the bracer's shattering, dripped blood down his hand to water the dirt. He felt as if he slowly bled to death where he stood, though he knew it was likely only a delusion born of fear.

  His answer seemed to satisfy the captain, for he was thereafter returned to the others. But his rebellion had gained him special treatment. A foul-tasting gag was tied over his mouth, and he was bound with his arms pressed against his sides and his hands behind his back. It was not long before the agony of the contortion set in.

  But when Ashelia mouthed a tearful Thank you, and Rolan stared at Garin with wide-eyed awe, and Wren leaned her head on his shoulder and whispered she was proud of him — the suffering became bearable.

  Come morning, pain had settled deep into his shoulders. His maimed wrist, though bound by the Ravagers to stem the blood loss, had saturated its bandages and showed no signs of slowing. He felt as if he would suffocate on his gag, or perhaps vomit and drown. Yet he'd had no choice but to let the Ravagers haul him up onto the saddle of a brown-and-white mottled mare.

  Now, as the walls of Kavaugh loomed above, all trace of consolation from his earlier heroics had dissipated, replaced by a buzzing anxiety. There will be consequences, he thought, over and over. They had killed Easterners in Valankesh Pass as well as the night before. There would be a reckoning, and he couldn't help but anticipate what form it would take.

  As the Ravager company pushed past the peasants thronging the city gates, even the grand sights that greeted Garin's eyes could not distract him from his misery. He saw the sweeping cityscape, the white-paved street, the stunning architecture — yet all it left on his mind was a hazy impression of grandeur. Kavaugh was as unlike Halenhol and Elendol as they were different from each other; in some ways exceeding, while in other ways — by the stench in particular — appearing the same as any other city.

  The Ravagers led them forward until they reached the base of the hill at the city's center, then their path took them back and forth as they wound their way up to the apex. Garin kept thinking they must turn off somewhere, that a dungeon waited just around the next corner. But always, they kept ascending toward the sprawling, golden building above the others.

  The palace, he slowly realized. We're going to the Sun Emperor's palace.

  Incredible as it seemed, they were being taken to the very place they might have gone anyway — even if it was far from the manner in which they had intended to approach. Garin wondered how Tal was faring, if he had also been taken to the Emperor.

  Could that Extinguished, Pim, be telling the truth? Could the Emperor assist us?

  But with his body painfully twisted and hunger and thirst assaulting him with every stuttering hoof fall, he found it difficult to hold onto hope for anything. Whatever the Emperor's affiliations, the loyalties of the female Extinguished, Hashele, were clear. He doubted she would have any use for them once she'd taken what she wanted from Tal.

  They rode before the palatial gates and were promptly admitted. Garin felt as if they traveled through a haunted dream as they paced down the gleaming stone path through the rambling gardens. Such fabricated splendor seemed at odds with the pain coursing through him, like a honeyed treat held tauntingly out of a begging child's reach.

  They proceeded down the walkway, but instead of ascending the steps to the colossal front doors, their party turned right to follow along the palace's face. Several hundred paces farther, the path turned again, heading into deeper shadows and grounds less meticulously kept. Garin shivered as the umbra
fell over him, as if the castle were the looming figure of a devil as tall as Heyl. He remembered the shadow creatures that haunted them during the Ravager attack and wondered if they would encounter worse still ahead.

  After all his anxious conjectures, the arrival at their destination almost came as a relief. It was little more than a door set in the posterior of the palace, wide enough to admit two at a time. A pair of guards stood at the entrance, both Easterner humans. The Ravager captain dismounted from his heavy beast and spoke with them briefly, then motioned and barked something to his men and women. His followers reacted at once, alighting from their mounts and moving to the prisoners. Garin was roughly hauled off the mare and thrust onto his wobbling legs. He felt woozy and light-headed, yet was forced to march with the others toward the door. The sound of his breath filled his ears as he entered the dark dungeon.

  The interior was not as foreboding as he'd expected. Even the palace's prison seemed well kept and orderly. Smokeless torches lit the way as Garin and the others were shoved down the corridor. Cells with black iron bars lined the passage. Most of them were empty, but the occasional occupant appeared, cringing back from their company. By the reaction, Garin had the sinking feeling they had been trained to fear their captors' approach. His stomach, already agonizing over hunger and the abuse from the night before, nearly had him heaving against his gag.

  After a turn in the corridor, they stopped in front of a row of empty cells. Another palace guard, this one a Nightelf, had joined the minotaur captain at some point in their march and chattered with him as she opened the cells. The captain looked far from receptive to her conversation. Ignoring the guard with a prominent scowl, the Ravager motioned his subordinates abruptly toward the rooms. Garin found himself maneuvered within one, a final push sending him sprawling to the floor, to the general laughter of the Ravagers. His head knocked against the stone, and lights sparked into his vision, while ringing started up in his ears.

  He didn't intend on rising, but his captors were not through with him yet. Garin was hauled upright, and his head lolled on his neck as he fought to remain conscious. The painfully taut ropes began to unwind from around his arms. He could have sobbed for the relief that filtered through his tortured limbs. As the last of the bindings disentangled from his body and his wrists came free, Garin looked up to see who this merciful soul was. But when he met the red-threaded eyes of the Nightelf guard, he found no pity there. Only as one arm was pulled forward and something was slapped over his bandaged wrist did Garin understand what was happening. He wondered if they realized he could break out again or if they had other measures to protect against it. It seemed likely their cell was lined with its own glyphs, perhaps to dampen magic, or perhaps to punish any who sought to escape. The Nightelf finally untied the gag and pulled it free of his mouth with a grimace.

  "Reachmen," he thought he heard her say with disgust before she rose and made for the cell door, promptly closing it behind her.

  Garin let his eyes drift closed. Rest. All he needed was to sleep. Perhaps this was all a nightmare. Life had been strange since their capture at Valankesh Pass. Perhaps he was trapped in a dream and would soon wake from it to find his companions and him free, and Tal still with them.

  Tal.

  The thought jerked him awake. What would happen to Tal? What would happen to any of them?

  "Garin?"

  He turned toward the stone wall behind which Wren had spoken. She had evidently been placed in the cell next to his.

  "Wren," he croaked, both pleased to be able to speak and horrified at how his tortured voice sounded.

  "You alright?"

  A hoarse chuckle bubbled up from his chest. "As alright as any of us can be."

  "Your wrist. Looks like they mangled it more than it already was."

  Garin lifted his arm for examination. It felt as if all the muscles had been pulled from it, weak and thin as it was. The bracer rubbed against his wounds as he moved, provoking a wince. He could not see how the wounds were faring without removing the bandages, but he feared to disturb them, lest he begin bleeding again.

  He settled his arm back down. "I'll live."

  "You better." Though she tried to disguise it with anger, he heard the worry in Wren's voice. He wished he could offer her more consolation, but the words stuck in his throat.

  Instead, he asked softly, "What's going to happen to us, Wren?"

  "We'll survive. That's all we can do."

  Neither of them spoke after that. Against that hopeless assertion, there was nothing else to be said.

  Wake, Jenduit. You must wake.

  The voice echoed in Garin's head, faint as the remembrance of a dream. Only as he recalled how the Singer had last visited him did he come fully awake.

  "Ilvuan?" he muttered aloud as he sat up. "Where have you been?"

  I have no time to tell. There is conflict among the ava'duala. Factions have formed. I cannot stay.

  Ava'duala? He had heard Ilvuan use the word before, yet through the haze of the blood loss, he could not recall what it meant.

  He felt Ilvuan's impatience boiling over. What my kind calls ourselves. I cannot stay, little Listener — but know I will return for you when I can.

  Garin's chest had surged with hope at the Singer's voice. But now, he felt it sinking again. Wait! We're trapped here, Ilvuan. You can't just leave us!

  I must!

  He scrambled for a reason to keep him there. The Singer had saved him many times before in his times of need. Surely, there was something Ilvuan could do now, if only he could think of it.

  His eyes fell on the bracer, and he knew what his most pressing question must be.

  Answer this at least. Our sorcery is bound by black stone bracers, yet I was able to break mine earlier. It had its own song, Ilvuan — like the Worldsong, only different. And I let it go free. Do you know what it means?

  For a long moment, only silence greeted his question. Just as Garin wondered if the Singer had been pulled away once again, Ilvuan spoke.

  The Doash'uunae, what you know as the Worldsong, is born of all things, living and not. But the ava'duala sing the strongest songs.

  Garin waited, expecting a more conclusive answer. But after a moment's breath, he felt Ilvuan's claws easing its grip on his mind.

  I go, Jenduit. Remember all I have taught you. Heed the Song!

  With that last call, it felt as if the Singer launched himself away, a dragon taking flight.

  Garin winced at the mental impact, but it was the Singer's answer that had him reeling. But the ava'duala sing the strongest songs. He had not understood it at first. But it was not long before he realized Ilvuan had answered his question after all.

  He raised the bracer again, stained with the blood oozing from his wounds. In that moment, he barely noticed the pain.

  "Dragons," he murmured. "It's made of dragons."

  He didn't know how it could be. He didn't know what its origins meant for its properties. But he knew it to be the truth with a rare certainty.

  The bracer he wore, that so closely resembled stone, was not stone at all. It was the remains of a dragon. Within it lingered the essence of an ava'dual.

  He leaned back against the wall, head spinning. Garin closed his eyes. He began to plan.

  A False Smile

  Tal stared up at his one-time companion, caught for once without words.

  "Inanis." Hashele said the name with evident distaste, like the greeting of one ill-mannered sibling to another.

  "Hashele." Pim smiled back at her. He wore his golden elf disguise and accentuated its false beauty with luxurious robes. Silver lined the thick folds of spring-green fabric, and rings glimmered on his fingers. His usual bracelet, heavy and black, seemed an ugly contrast to the rest of his appearance.

  His eyes, infected more wholly than usual with their black threads, shifted from Hashele to Tal, who remained on his knees. His smile turned to a frown. It was too abrupt a change of expression to seem genuine, thou
gh the interest in his dark eyes as they touched upon the Binding Ring certainly seemed real.

  "Tal Heartseeker," Pim greeted him. There was a hint of regret in his tone, but Tal knew that, too, could be easily falsified.

  "Pim. Or should I call you Inanis the Betrayer now?" Tal flashed him a mocking smile.

  "Silence!" Hashele hissed as she turned back to him. "You will respect him as you do me!"

  Tal had learned better than to try for a response as her command asserted its hold over him. Yet it did not force the smile from his lips. Though she seemed to view Pim as a competitor for Yuldor's favor, she retained some regard for him.

  Even if it is a viper's regard.

  "They are only words, my dear sea pearl," Pim said, his voice shifting to be cloyingly honeyed as he moved across the red carpet. Tal couldn't imagine how such an address would be received.

  As anticipated, it did not land well.

  "If I could but rip out your tongue," she hissed. But her fury was not echoed in her manner as she continued reluctantly, "Yet you succeeded where Soltor and Thartol failed. You brought Skaldurak here. Soon, our Master's victory will be complete."

  "No, my blushing coral," Pim said, speaking as gently as to a lover in his bed. "It was not I who succeeded, but you. I merely shepherded him into your flawless snare."

  Hashele bared her pearly teeth in a snarl. The blue coals in her eyes glimmered with harsh promises.

  "Do not push my gratitude too far, Inanis," she warned.

  Pim shrugged, then looked at Tal once more. His eyes could have been a cloudy night sky for all he saw in them.

  Still, you hope, Tal thought scornfully. He was always Extinguished, you damned fool. And the Extinguished serve only their Lord and Savior.

  "Let us bring this to an end, dearest Shele," Pim said softly, not breaking eye contact with Tal. "I will fetch the others. They were brought in not long ago. They should provide sufficient… motivation for our stubborn prisoner."