by Jekka Jones
“No artist could ever capture this beauty,” Kennin agreed. He and Darrin stepped closer to the amulet, gazing at it in wonder.
The three Seers and Kennin stood frozen for many heartbeats, admiring the Wizard’s Seal, and then as one looked at Landon.
Chapter 21
Landon’s courage failed him. He struggled against his bonds, casting terrified looks at the amulet nestled in the handkerchief. “No. Angels, no . . . Almighty, save me. . . . Sri’Lanca, please . . .”
Kennin placed the tip of his dagger in one of the amber loops, being careful of his wife. He levered the Seal onto the blade and tilted the dagger. The soft scrap of metal on metal kicked Landon’s terror into an emotion beyond comprehension. Myra also strained at her bonds, tears streaming down her face, and cried through her gag.
Kennin walked over to Landon, holding the dagger steady so the Seal wouldn’t slide in either direction. The three Seers’ eyes followed him like a cat watching the progress of a bird.
Kennin stopped beside Landon and held the Seal within an inch of his ear. “Who wants to go first?” he asked, his dark eyes eager.
Darrin, Sayre, and Niklas eyed each other. For one hopeful second, Landon expected them to pull their weapons and fight, but they didn’t. Sayre and Darrin smiled at each other and all three walked up to Landon as one. Sayre was in the center, with Niklas on her right and Darrin on her left.
Landon struggled against the ropes, but they were so tight, he couldn’t feel his arms any more. He gathered his voice to yell, but in two quick strides a Borikan was at Myra’s side with a dagger pressing into her throat. He said nothing but smiled. That smile was enough for Landon to stifle his own shout.
“Darrin, please! Don’t do this!” He begged, focusing on the one person he hoped would show mercy.
“I am sorry, Landon, but as a wizard’s descendant, I must know.” He was two feet from him. “Our parents and grandparents claimed we could access the Seal’s power through Keene’s descendants. I—We need to see if that is true.”
Darrin wasn’t justifying his actions nor was he begging for Landon to understand. He spoke as if they were in one of the Tsuregan training rooms, and he was about to demonstrate a fighting stance.
“It’s not! Darrin, don’t! Please don’t. Please!” The last word ripped itself from Landon as a half-scream, half-sob. He searched the samurai’s eyes for some shred of the teacher that he had once known.
All he saw was greed. The Darrin he thought he knew had never existed. That man had been nothing more than a mask, a fake person to befriend Landon and gain his trust.
Darrin shook his head. “I know how much you fear this, Landon. Your mother and father would be begging just as hard as you if they stood in your place.” He pulled off his gauntlets and cupped the right side of Landon’s face, holding his head against the tree. Landon tried to twist free but Sayre and Niklas each placed a hand on his neck, holding him steady. He shuddered at their touch, and his eyes darted to the Seal dangling inches from his skin.
“I promise,” Darrin said with no trace of sympathy, “I will not force you to do anything—”
“Don’t do this to me, Darrin, please!”
“—that will go against your beliefs.” Darrin nodded to Kennin.
Kennin moved the dagger, and the Seal contacted Landon’s temple.
In the second that the Seal’s hot metal touched his skin, his body was ripped from his control. He became a doorway, a conduit for the power to pass. It flowed through him like a river, splitting into three smaller paths towards the Seers’ hands. Landon couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. His sobs and futile efforts to break free ceased the moment the Wizard’s Seal touched him. His thumping heart slowed, became calm, and his breathing returned to normal.
Landon was a statue, yet he was aware of his surroundings, aware that Myra’s cries had redoubled. He saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, her pale face flushed with fear. Landon screamed, tried to fight, but it was only in his mind. No one could see or hear him. He was powerless. He didn’t even feel cold. His bond with Sri’Lanca was nonexistent.
The Seers’ eyes widened. “Amazing!” Darrin exclaimed.
“This must be what a god feels like,” Niklas said, awed. The power sharpened, became focused, and wood splintered nearby. Several of the men jumped and shouted their amazement. Niklas’ smiled widened. “That was so easy!”
“Dohl darai, eliin?” Kennin asked.
“Incredible!” said Sayre, letting out an explosive breath. “To think they kept this in the dark for centuries, to collect dust. Such a waste! Kennin, eliin, I wish you could experience this.”
“Watching is pleasure enough for me.” Kennin moved to gaze directly into Landon’s eyes. He laughed, and Landon’s soul flinched. “He is fighting it! Look at his eyes. You can see him fighting!”
Many bodies crowded closer, peering at Landon’s stony face. “Amazing,” commented Sairen. “Can you let us hear what he’s saying?”
“Let me see. . . .” said Darrin. The power changed, withdrawing from a small portion of Landon’s mouth and throat. He could move his tongue and lips, but that was it.
“Please stop . . . Please stop . . .” Landon begged, but his voice was flat and monotonous. “Please . . . let me go. . . .”
The men burst into gales of laughter, mimicking his pleas in mocking tones.
“No, Landon,” Sayre purred. “We have been waiting a long time for this and I want to enjoy what is coming next. Darrin, musuko, I think these bonds are no longer necessary.”
The other two Seers’ eyes glittered, and the surrounding soldiers held their breaths in anticipation. Darrin and Niklas nodded as one, and the power zeroed in on the cords and the ropes binding Landon to the tree. They dissolved into dust, and his fingers and arms flexed on their own. Shock slammed into Landon.
The Seers were controlling his body.
His left hand reached up and took the Wizard’s Seal by one of the loops and slid it off Kennin’s blade. The hand clenched the Seal, and Landon’s feet took a step from the tree. Darrin’s hand left Landon’s face to grasp his right wrist, while Niklas did the same to his left hand. Sayre kept her hand on his neck, lovingly stroking his throat.
“Gentlemen, time is short,” Sayre said, malice twisting her lovely features. “Shall we proceed as planned?”
“Yes,” Darrin replied, and stared into Landon’s eyes. “Landon, I regret what must be done, but this is the only way to ensure that we have complete control over you. As I promised, I will not force you to do anything that goes against your beliefs.”
“What do you mean?” Landon asked, his soul quivering.
In answer, Darrin released Landon’s wrist. The power ceased its flow towards that part and converged on Niklas and Sayre’s touch. Darrin went over to Myra and touched her cheek. “I hope you can forgive me, Myra.”
Myra shook her head, and muffled sounds could be heard from the rag. Many pairs of eyes flicked from Landon to Myra and back again. Their eagerness for blood became palpable.
“Please don’t hurt her,” Landon begged, trying to put feeling into his voice. It remained emotionless.
“Alas, that is exactly what must be done, Landon.” Sayre stated, her tone dripping with bloodlust. “The Wizard’s Seal can end this war. We,” she motioned to herself, Niklas, and Darrin, “must have full control over you—and your parents once we capture them—if we are to put a stop to this madness. We need to make sure it is possible, and we know your beautiful friend, Myra Higgins, let fly the arrow that took Angen’s life. Justice must be appeased, and this is the perfect opportunity.”
The Borikans in the throng growled and cursed Myra, calling her everything from a peasant whore to a devil.
Landon’s mind reeled. No one except he, his parents, Morgan, and Juan knew about Myra and Angen. They had all guarded that secret as closely as the Seal. Myra’s sobs doubled. Her blue eyes gazed at Landon, begging him for help. Sri’Lanca, where are you?
&nbs
p; “That’s not true,” he said frantically, or as well as he could with a flat voice. “My guardians killed Angen, not—”
“I know it was Myra, Landon,” interjected Darrin. “The first time I attempted to bring you to Tsuregi, Morgan confessed before four samurai that he and Myra had saved you. Those samurai later told me, and I have kept it to myself until now.” His eyes drifted to the Drakshus. “Sayre desired proof that I would honor our truce—understandable, as I wished the same from her—so I told them.”
Landon’s terror peaked. “Darrin, please,” he said. “Don’t let them do this. Have mercy.”
“It is the perfect arrangement, Dayn,” said Kennin. “We have seen and heard through reports that you would fight to protect this woman. Gods know you would die for her, but can you reclaim the Seal’s power to save her?” The Menrian War Chancellor leaned close to Landon. “My wife and I think you cannot, but there is only one way to find out. If a Twin of Heaven’s soul can be resurrected in the meantime, then all the better. Myra Higgins of Nircana must be executed, and you will carry out the deed.”
His words hung in the air, the pronouncement as final and authoritative as any judge’s verdict. Myra’s face drained of all color, and her terrified eyes found Landon’s. His body and face showed no reaction. He tried to yell, tried to tell them that their beliefs were wrong and Angen’s soul was well and whole, but his mouth and throat had been reclaimed by the Seal’s power.
He threw all his mental willpower into wrestling control. His soul fought and clawed against the power coursing through him, but he might as well have thrown pebbles at a mountain. The power ignored him completely.
Almighty, no! Please, don’t do this to me. Save her. Save her, please! Landon screamed, knowing his god was watching. Send Sri’Lanca. Send Ti’Luthin. Send anyone!
“Bauven, you have the girl’s knife?” asked Niklas.
A dark-haired man stepped forward, and Landon shivered with recognition—Bauven Shorin, the first Borikan who Landon had encountered. Shorin looked healthier and meaner than when Landon had found him trying to escape the Tsuregan palace last year. He passed Myra’s hunting knife to Niklas and gave Landon a sly, malicious wink.
Niklas hefted the knife and held it towards Landon hilt first. Landon saw the plain wooden handle and the simple yet pristine blade, just over five inches. His free hand took the knife and his fingers flexed around the handle. Mercilessly, the men rearranged themselves into a large circle with him in the middle and Myra near the border.
Almighty, kill me. Kill me now! Please, let me die!
Sayre cocked her head, her cold blue eyes peering into Landon’s. “Are you praying, Landon?” She crooned, stroking his cheek with a soft finger. “I know this is going to be very hard for you. Darrin has told us how much you care about this girl. But do not worry, we will find another woman for you.” She kissed his cheek.
Despair flared in him at the touch of her lips. Sayre laughed softly and transferred her hand to his wrist, the same one holding the Seal. “Let us see if you can stop us.”
Angels, no. . . . No!
Landon’s body was walking towards Myra, his right hand clutching the Wizard’s Seal and his other the knife. Sayre and Niklas kept a firm grip on his wrist, walking in stride.
It felt like only two steps and Landon was standing in front of Myra. She wasn’t fighting to break free or speak, but instead gazed at him with anguished eyes. He knew she was begging him to fight, begging him to be strong and take back the power—but he couldn’t. He was a passenger in his own body.
He felt the power shift, and his lips curled into a smile. It surged and Myra’s gag disintegrated. She coughed, choking on tears.
Myra, I’m trying! Oh angels, please slay me now!
“Landon . . .” she whispered. “I—”
Landon’s lips pressed against Myra’s, cutting off her plea. He was forced to passionately kiss her, tasting her tears as he did so. The watching Borikans and samurai hooted raucously. Landon screamed in silence, his agony tearing his soul to pieces.
Sri’Lanca, where are you? Help me!
He pulled away, his face inches from hers. The power played around his mouth and throat again until Landon said, “I love you, Myra Higgins.” His voice held no love. It wasn’t expressionless, but as cold and cruel as the Seers controlling him.
Myra shook her head, tears streaming from her reddened eyes. They drifted to Sayre standing beside Landon. “Please, not like this. If you have any shred of humanity, don’t—”
Landon’s spoke over her, voicing words against his will. “I, Landon Dayn hereby avenge Angen Hastril, a Twin of Heaven. As decreed by the God Kings, Wastil of the Earth and Oldan of the Sky, Angen Hastril’s life will be avenged through the punishment and death of Myra Higgins of Nircana. May Vashna receive the soul of Angen Hastril, a Twin of Heaven.”
“Landon . . . I for—”
His arm moved. Landon silently screamed as the knife shot towards Myra’s belly, driven forward by his strength. Myra shrieked as the knife entered her middle just below the ropes. His hand pushed the knife into her abdomen until only the hilt was protruding from her shirt. In the same fluid motion, he twisted, drawing a cry of pain from her. He pulled out the knife with a soft squelch and stabbed a second time.
Landon stared at the incisions in Myra’s shirt, blood dripping from the blade. At first there was nothing, and then a dark, black stain oozed onto her shirt. It became two small circles, and quickly combined into a large blemish.
Myra! Landon redoubled his mental efforts to take back the power, to take back his body, but it was useless. He stood there, grinning and watching Myra convulse and gasp in pain. There was a strange sound coming from the watching samurai and Borikans, something between a roar and a round of applause.
Myra sucked in a shuddering breath, her head bowed with pain. “Help . . . Landon . . . help . . .” she moaned, her voice weak.
The blood had begun to drip from her shirt, the dark droplets splattering on her boots. She tried to lift one leg to stem the drips, but it was too painful. Her knees gave and she sagged in her bonds. Her face paled and twisted with pain. “Angels, help . . .”
Myra, I’m sorry! Landon wailed. Oh angels, kill me now! He hoped she would look in his eyes and see the anguish there.
“How deep is the wound?” asked Kennin from somewhere behind Landon.
The power did a sweeping search of her body, but whatever information it obtained was sped through Landon and straight to its new masters.
Niklas’ fingers twitched on Landon’s wrist. “It nicked her innards,” he announced. “Not enough to kill her instantly, but she will bleed to death in an hour. Maybe two.”
This was met with more cheers. The Borikans praised Landon for saving Angen, and the samurai celebrated one less Nircanian to fight. Landon paid no attention to them. The circle of blood had taken over most of Myra’s shirt and breeches. He watched her bleed, listened to her moans, and wept in the depths of his soul.
Myra, hold on . . . please, hold on! Somehow, someway help would come. He was sure of it! With the battle going on, Sam would want those clean bandages as soon as possible. Someone would come looking, knowing Landon should be done by now.
Sayre raised her hand and the men quieted. “Time is short. Zakrem, cut her loose. I want the peasants to find her as we found Angen.” She turned her cold eyes on Landon. “Let us put the Seal away, Niklas. It will be easier to travel if we don’t have to keep a hold of Landon the entire time. The rest of you, clean the area. I don’t want the peasants to know how we got here.”
The Borikans sprang into motion. The samurai didn’t move until Darrin nodded his consent. They scurried around the clearing, doing their best to make their footprints less obvious. Landon and the Seers moved back as Zakrem came forward. He cut Myra free with a dagger, and she flopped to the ground. She lay there, shaking and sobbing, her hands clasped to her belly.
Landon’s heart broke. Her moans and wh
impers cut him like a whip. He prayed for her to hold on. He barely noticed when the knife was taken from his hand, and the pouch’s soft leather pressed against his fingers. His fingers relaxed and the Wizard’s Seal slipped into the pouch.
The power drained from his being, and all of his grief, fear, and anguish doubled. His body shook from the pain of it all, and for a second he thought he would vomit. Sudden movements nearby startled him, but it was Niklas and Sayre stepping away. Niklas drew the drawstrings tight on the pouch and tied it to his belt.
“Landon. . . .”
The Seers and their minions disappeared at that feeble voice. Landon fell to his knees beside her, tears filling his eyes. Without caring about the people around him seeing the scars, he ripped off his shirt and pressed it against Myra’s wound. She gave a weak, shuddering gasp as he applied pressure.
“Landon . . .” Myra began but Landon shushed her into silence.
“D-don’t speak,” he whispered. “Oh angels, Myra. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Tears that had been restrained by the wizard’s power flowed freely. He sobbed with all the unbearable misery and despair he felt.
The woman he loved, the woman who had risked everything to save him time and time again, was dying. He saw it in her face, heard it in her voice. He grabbed the fragments of rope that had bound her to the tree and began tying his shirt to her wound. He whispered words of encouragement, begging her to be strong, but he knew few survived such wounds. If shock didn’t kill them, then the loss of blood did. Already it was seeping from her like water, staining his shirt and the ropes.
“It . . . it doesn’t hurt . . . s-s-so bad . . . r-right now,” Myra said softly.
“Please, Myra, d-don’t speak,” he begged. “Just . . . save your strength. You can get through this. You can! Oh angels, you must.”
Landon’s body convulsed with grief and the muscles along his back shivered. Tears blurred his eyes until he could hardly see. He worked as fast as he could, fearing any moment he would be dragged from her side. He managed to tie off the last length of cord, the reddened shirt peeking between the throngs. He slid one hand under her head, and crouched over her, pressing his forehead to her clammy skin.