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

by J. D. L. Rosell

  Hashele turned back to Pim. "That is not an entirely stupid idea."

  "I will be back before you can miss me." The golden elf flashed her a brilliant smile before glancing back at Tal. "Do not treat him too harshly while I am away, if you would, precious Shele. Our Lord still requires him whole and alive."

  Hashele formed her simulacrum of a smile. "I will pay him what he asks for."

  Tal watched as Pim shrugged, then moved toward the exit. After a brief pause at the door, he smiled back at Hashele, then disappeared through.

  As the door closed, Tal turned back to see his captor approaching. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides.

  "He's always thought he understood mortals best," Hashele said softly as she stopped before him. "But I know men like you. I know that you must be broken before you can be built up again."

  Tal didn't bother dodging as Hashele's fist crashed into his skull.

  Garin had not yet finished formulating a scheme when he heard footsteps echoing down the corridor. Too late, he realized, and shrank back against the corner of the cell.

  He listened with nervous anticipation as the visitors drew closer. They're just checking on us, he told himself. They'll go away soon. He tried not to think about what would happen if they attempted something like the Ravagers had on Rolan. He wasn't sure he had another rebellion in him.

  But when the two figures came into view, one was clearly not a guard. The torches mounted in the corridor left faces shadowed, but Garin could tell their visitor was important. His emerald robes were trimmed with silver and used far more fabric than was necessary. Only as the man leaned into the light to peer at Garin through the bars did he realize who it was.

  "Pim," he whispered.

  "Ah. Garin, is it?" Though he wore his guise as an elf, the black in the Soulstealer's eyes seemed to soak in the light and trap it.

  Garin gave no more response than a glare. Pim knew who he was, at least in relation to Tal; he had shown as much during their first encounter. But he had no intentions of letting him in on further information in case he didn't know all.

  Pim smiled, not seeming put off by his silence, then waved to the guard. "Thank you — that will be all for now."

  The prison guard eyed Garin for a moment, red threads spinning in her eyes, then gave a brief bow toward the Extinguished and strode back the way she'd come.

  "I was hoping we might talk," Pim said when the guard's footsteps echoed away. "You and the rest of your companions." He swept his gaze around at the other cells.

  "Leave him alone!" Wren snarled from the cell next to his. Garin winced, wishing she wouldn't attract attention to herself.

  "Ah, Wren as well — how pleasant to see you again." Pim looked around at the others. "Ashelia and Helnor Venaliel. The son, Rolan, and the bard, Falcon. Aelyn Belnuure… and Kaleras the Impervious. I am rather surprised to find you here, warlock, I must admit. Your reputation always made you out as a far more prudent man than this!"

  Kaleras appeared to be taking the same route as Garin, for he heard no response from the aged warlock.

  "What do you want?" Ashelia spoke now. Though she sounded distant from where Garin's cell was placed, barely restrained anger was evident in her voice. Cool-headed as she usually was, Garin guessed she was remembering what had nearly befallen Rolan and her brother's treatment at the Ravagers' whims on the road.

  Pim spread his arms as he turned toward Ashelia's cell. "To help you. And for you to help me."

  Garin stood, his vision blurring for a moment as he tottered forward. The chains they had secured to his feet only allowed him within a few paces of the bars, so he stood there, swaying, and faced the Soulstealer.

  "Tal trusted you. He believed you when you said the Emperor would aid us. But you lied, didn't you? Lied to him and to us."

  The fell sorcerer turned back to him at the sound of his scraping chains and considered him for a moment. "Perhaps I did not tell the full truth; that, I can own up to. But lie? No, Garin, I did not lie. The Emperor desires nothing more than to aid in Tal's cause."

  A braying laugh sounded from behind Pim, followed by Aelyn's sneering voice. "And you share the same desire, do you?"

  "Yes, I do, Aelyn Cloudtouched. And I will prove it." Pim glanced back at Garin. "I will prove it by freeing you."

  His heart felt as if it would stop — then it continued to beat on, faster than before.

  "Free us?" Garin croaked.

  Pim wore a small smile. "Yes. And not only that — I will bring you to Tal. And you will save him."

  "Riddles, riddles." Falcon's voice was distant, the bard apparently occupying the farthest cell from Garin. "If you truly mean to help, speak plainly, foul creature."

  The Extinguished laughed. "Eloquent as ever, bard. Very well — I will speak as simply as I can. Tal is held by Hashele in a guarded chamber upstairs. Once I free you, I will bring you to this room, where you must challenge and overcome her. It will not be easy — but with such venerable names here, I am sure you will prove sufficient."

  Garin imagined guards swarming grand hallways such as he'd seen in the Coral Castle. Fear tangled with the hunger in his belly.

  "And what will you be doing?" Aelyn asked acidly. "Hiding, I suppose?"

  Pim shrugged. "More or less. I cannot reveal my affiliations yet. So I must be absent."

  It smelled far too much of a trap for Garin's liking. But if Pim truly meant to free them from their chains, it would be a start — and a far more certain plan to succeed than any of the machinations Garin had concocted.

  A general silence fell upon the corridor. Pim turned from one cell to the next. Garin forced himself not to flinch away as the Soulstealer's eyes bored into him. He challenged the Extinguished in an unwavering stance.

  Show who you really are, he thought toward the man. Ally or enemy, just show us.

  Pim laughed curtly. "I will take that as agreement."

  With that, the Extinguished thrust a hand into his robes. Garin flinched, fearing the worst, but when Pim withdrew his hand, only a simple, gray stone was clasped in it. Pim pressed his thumb into its center, and green light glowed from beneath it. A runic key, he guessed. A moment later, his bracer began to glow against his blood-soaked bandage, and the manacles, etched with hidden glyphs, revealed their latent magic.

  All at once, Garin's bindings opened.

  He staggered forward a step as he was freed from the chains. The bracer slipped to the ground with a dull clink, its two halves falling open. The corridor filled with the sound of manacles and astonished gasps. Garin raised his head just as the cell door glowed with green glyphs, then clicked as if the lock had turned. Slowly, it swung open a hands-width before halting.

  Garin looked beyond the door to the Extinguished. Pim wore a satisfied smile as he watched them become free. Like a cat before a mouse that cannot escape, he thought.

  "Swiftly, now," Pim said, turning. "Celebrations will have to wait." With that, the Extinguished began striding back the way he had first come.

  Fearing the door might close again, Garin leaped for the exit and scrambled out of the cell. His head felt light and disconnected from his body as he staggered into the corridor. Free. His body ached, and he sported wounds from head to toe. But they were free — for the moment, at least.

  Someone wrapped their arms around him and buried their face in his chest.

  "Garin." Wren's voice was muffled by his soiled clothes. "Silence, is it good to hold you."

  He squeezed her back, though tentatively with his injured arm. She reeked of smoke and the road. He suspected he smelled just as pleasant.

  He held her all the tighter.

  "It is," he murmured into her hair.

  As swiftly as she embraced him, Wren pulled away. She wiped at her eyes and looked up at him with a frown. "Guess we're trusting that bastard then?"

  "Don't see that we have much of a choice."

  Ashelia stepped up next to them, Rolan held protectively against her si
de. "We will go with him, but with our eyes open."

  "And more ready besides," Helnor rumbled as he stepped up beside them. His face was purpled with bruises and his body scored with scabs, yet it appeared there was no stopping him.

  "Enough chatter," Aelyn snapped, striding between them to take the lead. "I mean to have words with Harrenfel once we find him."

  Garin hesitated a moment longer, looking back at the last two members of their party. Falcon seemed both scared and excited as he came up beside his daughter and placed his hand on her shoulder. Kaleras was less energetic. The aged warlock, who usually stood so straight and proud, labored merely to walk and held to the wall to stand.

  Garin approached him. Though he wasn't sure he had all that much aid to give, he said, "Allow me. As your apprentice."

  Kaleras raised his head. With a torch positioned behind his head, his eyes were shadowed. But the ghost of a smile played on his lips.

  "Very well," he answered, his voice small and hoarse.

  Glad no animosity remained between them, Garin stepped up to the aged warlock and gingerly placed the man's arm across his shoulders. He was taller than the former magister, so he hunched over to take his weight as they made their hobbling progress down the corridor.

  We're coming, Tal, Garin thought as he panted with exertion. Broken and battered as we are, we're coming.

  The Red Chamber

  "Speak!"

  Tal tried to obey the command, knowing cold pain would resurface if he did not. But his mouth was filled with blood. Leaning over, pressing against weak arms, he spat it out and gasped a response.

  "I'm speaking..."

  The Extinguished, however, did not appreciate his humor. Gripping his tail of hair, Hashele wrenched his head back. Tal gasped in pain as something twinged in his neck. Sorcery leaped through his veins to repair the wound.

  The Soulstealer stared into his eyes. Her salt-crusted lips were pulled back in the approximation of a snarl. "Why does my Lord seek you? What weapon do you possess? There was nothing on your person, nothing. So it must be the sorcery inside you. Answer me! Is it your gift he desires?"

  With his head held at an angle, Tal could only gurgle a response. She had long ago broken his nose and bloodied his mouth so that he was nearly drowning on his own lifeblood.

  Damned bad way to go.

  The Binding Ring seared with cold, and icicles stabbed through him. Tal gurgled a cry as his body seized with agony. Distantly, he felt Hashele throw him to the ground. The blood choking him swished out of his mouth to splatter over the rug.

  "Hasn't it occurred to you," he wheezed out when he could speak, "that you're asking the wrong question?"

  Hashele spoke in his ear, hushed and threatening. "Do not toy with me, Skaldurak. That will not end well for you."

  "No games." He drew in a painful breath and willed the sorcery to spread through him. Invited, it mended his wounds at an alarming rate. The loosened teeth in his mouth straightened and firmed their attachments, and the bleeding from his numerous wounds abated.

  Hashele only added to his injuries, however, as she pounded the back of his head with a fist.

  "Answer me!"

  Black spots dotted his eyes. Clenching his jaw, Tal turned to watch her from the corner of his hazy vision.

  "You're asking me things that Yuldor already knows. But haven't you wondered why he hasn't told you? You, his most favored servant. Unless…" He shrugged, the movement made awkward by his hunched position. "Unless you're not so favored after all."

  He knew the blow was coming. Yet pain, he had long ago discovered, could never be entirely prepared for.

  Cheek pressed against the carpet once again, Tal groaned. The rug's fibers were rougher than expected, but it was the least of his discomforts as Hashele drove a foot into his ribs again and again, emphasizing each of her grunted words.

  "You! Are! Nothing!"

  Something gave way in his side. Tal instinctively curled into a ball to protect it and all but howled.

  Resist, a voice urged inside his head. You must try to resist. Or she'll kill you.

  Part of him still hoped Pim had been playing Hashele and not him, though that voice was small. His one-time companion had acted his role so convincingly he could not tell which was the real Pim. But even if he was still an ally, he doubted he would stand up to Hashele directly. And she seemed hells-bent on ending him then and there, all her restrained rage loosened at last.

  Escape, another part of him whispered. Flee the only way you can. Flee to the Doash.

  That inclination was stronger. Now more than ever, with his mental defenses crumbling and his resolve teetering, the warm comfort that the World's core promised was like a bottle of swamp whiskey to Crazy Ean of Hunt's Hollow. He could picture it so clearly. All he had to do was sink into the darkness and move toward the light, and he would find it, he was sure…

  Another blow jerked him back to hazy awareness. Tal shifted, trying to better secure his broken ribs. No. I can't. I can't leave the others.

  He tried to hold their faces in his mind. Ashelia, Garin, Falcon — Helnor, Wren, Rolan — Kaleras. I'll never make things right with that bastard if I go now. I have to endure. I have to stay.

  But with every fresh wave of pain, Tal felt the resolution slipping further from his grasp.

  "This way."

  Garin glanced up at Pim's called direction as he and Kaleras hobbled after the others. Despite the cool air of the palace grounds through which they now trekked, sweat dripped down Garin's face. Pain assaulted him with every step, and his breath rattled in his lungs. As poorly as he felt, he knew Kaleras was worse. The man's age and old wounds were catching up to him. At each step, Garin feared the warlock would collapse, never to rise. But Kaleras was every bit as tough as he had always seemed. Step after step, he carried on.

  Wren glanced back, brow creased, as they headed up the stairs to the entry. Her worry was warranted from all Garin could tell. Though built into the palace, the dungeon did not lead into the inside of the complex. To exit it, they had to proceed back outside onto the grounds, then around to another entrance — the servants' portal, Pim had confided in his hurried explanation. That meant they had to travel a good deal farther before they reached Tal, who was being kept within one of the interior rooms.

  To keep his mind off his misery as he all but hauled Kaleras up the stairs, Garin wondered what obstacles might await them within. The guards and servants seemed to obey Pim as he would expect of one of Yuldor's Chosen. Yet Pim seemed to think his commands alone would not be enough to overcome this "guarded room."

  Sorcery? he wondered. He had no way of finding out, not with he and Kaleras taking up the rear of their company. But even though Aelyn pestered Pim, the Extinguished was as slippery as a marsh fish when it came to pinning down firm details. It did little to inspire the party's confidence, yet Pim knew they could not refuse him. Whatever his game, they were forced to play it for Tal's sake.

  They finally reached the top of the stairs, to Garin's immense relief. He and Kaleras had to sidle in sideways to make it through the entranceway. The corridor within was plainer than the palace had yet shown itself to be, barely elevated above the dungeon. As the hall opened into a bustling kitchen, Garin felt the servants' eyes riveted on their party. He ignored them and hoped word of the escapees would not spread throughout the palace like wildfire — though with how ragged they looked, he assumed it must.

  Worn though they were, his companions looked prepared for action. At Pim's word, the bewildered prison guards had handed over their own swords to Ashelia, Wren, and Helnor. Falcon, professing to be hopeless with any blade longer than his arm, had opted for a knife. Garin had accepted a sword as well, belting it on over his filthy tunic. Though he doubted he would make much use of it, he felt better with the weapon bumping against his thigh, ready to be drawn at any moment.

  Sentinels and servants, all wearing nearly identical expressions, stepped aside as they wound through the
kitchens to a dining room, and finally into what appeared to be the main corridor. Here, the full splendor of the palace was on display. Garin glimpsed paintings on the ceiling and framed pictures on the walls, all lined with gold. Mostly, his eyes were lowered to the polished tile and soft carpet at his feet and the backs of his comrades ahead. His ears were perked for any sounds approaching from behind. Even exhausted, he felt like a rabbit poised to bolt at a moment's notice.

  A pair of grand double doors appeared ahead, but Pim turned them aside to a more modest archway, under which was situated a plain door. As they paused, Garin glanced over his shoulder. Guards had followed their party and lingered at the far end of the corridor, suspicion and confusion battling for supremacy across their faces.

  Pim ignored them as he turned to Garin and the others. "They are within. Heed my warning. And…" The Extinguished looked back at the men and women crowding the hall before his eyes came to rest on Garin. "Mind the walls."

  As Garin turned the odd warning over in his mind, a faint sound from within startled him. The hair stood up on his arms. That had sounded very much like a pained scream.

  Tal.

  Ashelia had heard it as well. The next moment, she lunged for the door and wrenched it open. Encumbered by Kaleras, Garin followed behind the others as they streamed in. Pim gave him a lingering look, an inscrutable smile perched on his lips, his eyes flat and dark. As Garin entered, he heard the Extinguished walking quickly away. So he's not seen to be involved, Garin thought bitterly.

  But all his attention turned to the scene before him as the door closed behind and the shouting swelled.

  All his companions appeared to be speaking at once, and Garin could not make out any of their words. With his view blocked by their bodies, he felt strangely vulnerable. Still dragging Kaleras, he shoved his way past Falcon, who was gesticulating dangerously with his drawn dagger, and took in his first view of the room.

  Red and gold flooded his vision, distracting him for a moment before his eyes latched onto the figures in the middle of the chamber. Splotches of a darker red stained the scarlet carpet. More leaked from the man crumpled on the ground, a man he would recognize anywhere. Garin felt his knees grow weak. His own pain paled before the scene of suffering.