Vincent shook his head unable to believe his eyes. Even if Ian had such power, where had the dragon come from? No one had seen such a creature for centuries.
No matter, he didn’t have time to indulge his curiosity. Vincent glanced down at the courtyard below. Straegar and his men were all struggling to calm their spooked horses.
“Go!” He shoved Tyran toward the door. “While you can.”
Before Tyran could take two steps, the office door swung open and Captain Malcapin Yardley stood in the entryway. His long blond hair was tied back, and his blue eyes gleamed triumphantly.
“Stay right where you are,” Malcapin said, drawing his sword.
Vincent reached for his blade and realized he had left his sword belt hanging off the back of his chair across the room. Malcapin followed his gaze and his thin wedge-shaped face split into a toothy grin.
“I almost wish you were armed,” Malcapin sneered.
Tyran drew his sword. “I am. Face me?”
“Tyran, no!” Vincent ordered.
Malcapin’s grin widened as he casually twirled his blade around and around. “I’m going to enjoy this!”
Malcapin leapt forward brandishing his weapon high over his head as if he intended to cut Tyran in half. Vincent moved to intercept him, but Tyran was faster. The young boy lashed out once and spun away. Malcapin made a vicious swipe, the tip of his blade carving through the air and striking nothing. The captain spun around, a look of stunned amazement reflected in his blue eyes.
“I missed . . .” Malcapin gasped.
“I didn’t,” Tyran said.
The captain’s white uniform shirt blossomed red. He took a couple of staggered steps, struck the window sill with his knees, lost his balance and toppled over. Vincent and Tyran rushed to look out the open window. Malcapin landed hard in the courtyard below and lay still.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Vincent asked.
“Kylpin started my training with the sword. Denton finished it.”
“I’ll say . . .”
Wolfe Straegar dismounted, handed his reins to one of his men and knelt beside Malcapin. After a moment, he looked up. A vein stood out on his forehead. “He’s dead.”
Vincent knew that look. It wasn’t good.
Straegar ran to the school’s doors and gave them a shake.
“Unbar these doors!” Straegar took a step back and glared up at Vincent. “I will destroy this building and bring back your corpses if you force my hand!”
A spark of fire no bigger than Vincent’s fist shot across the courtyard and slammed into Straegar’s back. The force of the blow knocked the big warden off his feet. He slammed face first against the steps and his immaculate cloak began to burn. A couple of Straegar’s men jumped off their horses and began summoning water. Within seconds, the two mages directed twin streams at Straegar’s back and extinguished the flames. Straegar staggered to his feet. His long aquiline nose was broken, and blood bubbled out of it and down onto the front of his pristine uniform shirt.
With a snarl, Straegar pointed at the building. “Flatten it!”
The two water mages bowed their heads and began chanting. Swirling sapphire light coalesced in front of their waggling fingers.
Straegar whirled and pointed to the Gyunwarian students on the far side of the courtyard. “Kill them!”
Eighteen riders immediately bore down on the twenty students. To his credit, Odenar reacted well, shouting orders to his fellow countrymen but Vincent didn’t have time to watch the fight unfold. He ran to his desk, grabbed his sword belt and wrapped it around his waist. Then grabbing a couple of items from his desk, he turned and hollered for Tyran. “Come, now!”
For once, Tyran didn’t question his command. Vincent raced for the door and veered toward the nearest adjacent wing. Tyran dashed past him and Vincent did his best to keep up, but the young man was much faster. As he ran, a map of the Academy’s sprawling complex opened in his mind and he searched for the quickest way out of the main building. Like everyone else, he’d seen the water mages fight fires in the city. He’d seen the devastation their spells could bring about. Dammit! He hated the idea of leaving the Academy, but this was not how he’d wanted to leave the school. In ruins!
The air in the hall grew hot and dry. Lit torches flickering in the wall sconces danced taller. Sweat beaded on Vincent’s forehead and almost immediately disappeared. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Up ahead, he saw the hallway which would eventually lead to the new wing of the Academy. It was still under construction, but there should be ladders or scaffolding on the far side which would allow them to climb down and with any luck slip into the nearby woods before Wolfe or his riders noticed they were gone.
Tyran raced into the hallway and turned back, a look of fear and confusion etched across his face.
“Keep going,” Vincent shouted.
Tyran shook his head. “I’m afraid of heights, remember?”
Vincent grimaced. He’d forgotten about that! He slowed, deep in thought. The only other exit was on far side of the building. They’d never get there in time.
“Don’t worry.” Vincent ran toward the young man. “I’ll help you climb-”
The building gave a great shudder and before he could finish his sentence, the stone ceiling and tons of water crashed down on him.
chapter 46
The weight of Ian’s death crushed Kylpin. His knees buckled, and he sagged to the floor next to Josephine. She still had her arms wrapped around him. Ian had died with his head tilted against the side of her neck. It almost looked like he’d drifted off to sleep with a faint smile on his lips, secure in the knowledge that he was being held by the woman he loved.
If only that was the truth.
Kylpin bowed his head and let his tears flow down his cheeks. He was beyond caring if the other men saw him cry. To hell with them and what they thought. He would grieve for his lost friend.
Josephine was the first to break the somber silence. “Before he died,” she said softly. “My husband asked me to do three things. Marry him, stop Lord Ragget and make sure his son reached Gyunwar safely. I will see these last two tasks done now. Who will help me?”
Kylpin raised his head. “I don’t think Lord Ragget can be stopped.”
“There might be a way.” Josephine turned to Theodora. “If your offer to help still stands.”
Theodora cast a hard look at Denton and his men, but she offered a curt nod. “I only hope this delay hasn’t ruined our chance for success.”
Kylpin stared at the two women. A strange black stain had crept up the matron healer’s forearms. “What are you two talking about?”
“Theodora’s going to try and bring Sir Lumist back from the dead.”
“Do you really think this is going to work?” Kylpin whispered in Josephine’s ear as they stood in the matron healer’s garden and waited for her to begin her spell.
“It definitely won’t if you keep talking,” Theodora warned.
The matron healer was reclining against the trunk of the old oak tree in her back yard. She held Lumist’s inert body in her arms. The old knight’s head lolled against her cheek. At her direction, Philson wrapped a length of vine around them both and then coiled it around the base of the tree. “To keep us connected,” she explained.
Connected? Kylpin wondered. She’s sitting on the ground next to a tree and he’s dead. Where were they going to go?
“Everyone, stand back, I’m about to begin,” Theodora said. “You too, Philson, and thank you for your assistance.”
Kylpin raised an eyebrow. They were already a good ten yards away. Just how far did this spell . . . go? Travel? Extend? He shook his head. He was no mage or healer, but he saw no reason to defy the woman. This was their best hope of not having to face the unstoppable Lord Ragget directly. If this worked, he’d never doubt her word again.
He and Josephine backed up until they stood on the edge of the back porch. Edgar hovered protectively on
her other side. Philson soon joined them. Denton and his three men huddled a few yards away. The side of Mingo’s face was one large bruise and from time to time Kylpin caught him shooting Josephine dark, furtive glances. She didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t seem to care. Only Garett refused to join them outside. He had voiced a concern that his own brand of magic might interfere with Theodora’s. Not knowing anything about how their different magics worked, Kylpin thought it a perfectly acceptable excuse to remain inside. Enough had gone wrong for them lately; they didn’t need any more trouble. Besides, the fire mage was a strange fellow. He chewed on charred wood chips and spent a lot of time staring at the fire, but when Kylpin needed anything, Garett was willing to lend a hand. Kylpin supposed it made sense. The young man had asked him for a great favor, to be taken to Scylthia on his next voyage north.
“Just as long as you understand, I have to rescue Rai-Lin first,” he’d told the young fire mage.
“Of course, and if there’s anything I can do to help you in that regard, just ask.”
Could the young man really be that nice? Or was his offered aid simply a means to an end? The sooner Rai-Lin was found, the sooner they could go to Scylthia. Kylpin glanced over his shoulder and found the young mage standing inside the open doorway. Did his true motives really matter? Kylpin supposed not. He gave him a silent nod. Garett smiled and waved.
What a strange fellow!
Kylpin turned back and fixed his eyes on Lumist. Would the old man wake from death as if he’d been asleep the whole time? Would he remember the other side? Was it a vast sea as Kylpin believed? Or had Lumist gone somewhere else and been judged by the One? Kylpin stroked his beard. What if he discovered the twelve Yordician gods and goddesses waiting for him instead or . . . or something else entirely? Was it possible to have a variety of different afterlives coexisting peacefully side-by-side? Or was the next life just as prone to chaos as this one?
Kylpin shook his head at the sudden rush of questions. He wasn’t exactly a religious man and he supposed most of the answers he sought were beyond his understanding. Still, if Lumist did come back, he’d be curious to hear the old knight speak about what he remembered.
Anything would be better than his usual political rants and ravings.
Theodora’s soft chanting grew louder and the pungent aroma of the garden grew thick in Kylpin’s nose. He felt a sneeze coming on, but he didn’t dare let it loose for fear it would disrupt the matron healer’s concentration. His eyes watered. Theodora’s voice deepened. The ground beneath the oak tree trembled. The grass turned brown. The black stain inched up her arms past her elbows, her shoulders and climbed the pale skin of her neck. The hair on Kylpin’s arms rose. This was it. He could feel it building. Any second now Lumist would open his eyes and . . .
And in the span of a heartbeat, Theodora, Lumist and the giant oak disappeared. In their place was a great hole carved out of the ground, a good sixty feet wide and at least fifteen feet deep. The edge of the hole extended right up to the edge of the porch.
No one moved. Kylpin sneezed. The noise made everyone jump. What had just happened? He glanced at Josephine, Edgar, and Philson. They all looked just as confused as he. A section of pipe had gone missing in the hole too and the bottom of the pit was slowly filling with water. A rank odor rose from the hole and Kylpin gagged on the stench. No, not just water, sewage.
“What does this mean?” he said to no one in particular. “Is Lumist alive . . . somewhere?” He turned to Josephine. “Did we stop Ragget?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.” Her gaze shifted from the hole to a point up the hill. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”
Kylpin followed her gaze. Standing tall along the city’s western horizon loomed Lord Ragget’s Central Tower. The afternoon sun glanced off a bank of open windows near the top. “Do you think he’s up there right now trying to open that damn gate to Hell?”
Josephine’s jaw tightened. “If he is, I mean to stop him.” She looked him square in the eye. “Are you coming with me?”
Kylpin studied her for a long moment wondering what kept her moving forward. Like him, she’d lost everything, but she refused to quit. Why? He had to know. Was it madness? Revenge? A suicidal quest?
As if she understood his hesitation, his confusion, his need to understand, Josephine leaned in close and whispered. “It’s what Ian would have wanted.”
Kylpin wasn’t so sure. Ian had always been a man of law and order, a man of peace. He had believed in the court system . . . at least up until the point it failed him completely. Would he have sought justice outside of the courtroom? Would he have tried to right this wrong on his own? Unfortunately, now they’d never know, but Kylpin had a feeling Josephine was right. Ian would not have stood by and allowed this kind of wicked behavior to go unpunished, unchallenged, or unanswered. He may have tried a more diplomatic approach to start choosing to open negotiations with words first, but in his heart, Ian Weatherall was still a Gyunwarian.
He would have fought Lord Ragget to the bitter end.
Kylpin considered that for a moment. In his own way, Ian had fought Lord Ragget to his bitter end. And now it was time for him, for Josephine, for the rest of them to pick up where Ian had left off and continue his fight.
Resolutely, Kylpin nodded. “Let’s go.”
chapter 47
Stephano Di Rygazzo paused in the entryway of the somber inn and surveyed the taproom. He was pleased with the location. Thick, velvety shadows lurked around the edges, and oozed away from the walls in great pools as if the building itself bled darkness. Only the area around the bar was lit, but that was more to do with the absence of shadows rather than the appearance of light. Behind the bar, a dark-skinned Razilandian was cleaning glasses. Stephano Di Rygazzo made a dismissive gesture and the barkeep took no notice of him, his attention drawn solely to the task at hand. Stephano Di Rygazzo snorted. Razilandians despised magic, and it was this inane hatred of theirs which left them extremely susceptible to its power. Or was it the other way around? He couldn’t remember now.
Stephano Di Rygazzo stepped inside, his dark eyes already adjusted to the interior’s twilight ambiance. His boot heels thumped loudly against the rough-hewn wood floor. The barkeep didn’t even look up as he walked past.
A shadow in the back of the room stirred. Someone was watching him. Lord Ragget, no doubt. The letter he’d received earlier that morning from him had been brief; the tone, curt. “Execute Ian today. Meet me at the Phantom Inn after.”
He hadn’t appreciated Lord Ragget’s tone. In fact, over the past few days, he’d grown weary of the man’s superior attitude. Perhaps it was time to set him straight on a few things.
Like the real hierarchy of power on Gallesia.
But then again, it might be fun to play with him just a little while longer . . .
“I know things didn’t go exactly as planned,” he said as he approached the dark table. “But it all worked out in the end, wouldn’t you say?”
No reply.
Stephano Di Rygazzo contained his laughter. Was Lord Ragget trying to intimidate him with his silence, his drawn hood? He sat down and stared at the shadowy figure across the way. Very well, he’d play along. “I’ll admit I was surprised by your response to my missive.”
Silence.
“I know you threatened to kill me if I failed to implant the memory as you wished, but as I told you many times over the past few days, Ian was just too . . . good.” His lower lip curled. “Too damn stubbornly good.”
Nothing.
Stephano Di Rygazzo allowed a trickle of sweat to slide down the side of his forehead. He thought it was a nice touch. “As I explained in my letter this morning, I could have switched Ian with another Gyunwarian prisoner and brought him back to your estate for another round of torture . . .”
Still nothing.
Really? Had the man sewn his own damn mouth shut? Stephano Di Rygazzo fought to keep the frown off his face.
This was becoming quite infuriating.
“But, in the end, Sir Lumist confessed instead. I assume that will satisfy your sacrificial requirement.”
Silence.
Stephano Di Rygazzo swallowed down his anger. He knew Lord Ragget was a jealous man, but over the years he’d become a prideful, arrogant man too. It was an exceptionally annoying combination, even for him to bear. “I’m sure you understand, after that old knight stabbed me in the chest, I had to leave the platform.” Stephano Di Rygazzo tried to peer behind the veil of darkness at the silent figure staring back at him. “I can’t have regular people seeing what I am . . .”
Stephano Di Rygazzo waited. If anything got a response, he thought it would be that admission. He knew Lord Ragget believed him to be nothing more than a talented manipulator of the mind and an accomplished torturer. That’s what most people believed. Only a select few knew who and what he truly was.
A banished god.
Stephano Di Rygazzo scowled, his patience ended. “I don’t appreciate this childish silent treatment! I assume you killed Sir Lumist Tunney and Mister Ian Weatherall after I left. If you didn’t, well, I don’t see how you can blame me for your inaction! People like Ian Weatherall are fortunately few and far between. Their goodness makes them damn near impossible to corrupt. I warned you about that! Sometimes it is best just to kill them outright. Personally, I’m surprised he hadn’t been approached by my counterpart already. He was definitely a prime candidate for . . .”
The figure sitting in the shadows leaned forward. Stephano Di Rygazzo stiffened.
“Princess Cecily?” His brow furrowed. “I thought . . .”
“I know. You thought I was Lord Ragget.”
“He sent me a letter. He wanted to meet me here.”
“Letters can be forged.”
His jaw dropped. “How did you know . . .?”
“That you had returned to the city?” Cecily laid a piece of paper on the table. “I intercepted your letter to Devin this morning. I recognized your handwriting.”
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