The other Neenahwi inside her mind pictured her tower in the Judicial Halls neighborhood, and in that tower, she pictured her bed and the leather satchel that lay on top of the dusty comforter. She pulled a bright thread from the demon stone, thick and dense, and weaved it into a tight net. Her mind flung the net forward toward the vision of her home and the weaving disappeared, just a single strand leading back to her. She yanked on it, and the air in front of her ripped open, the edges curling in a phosphorescent spectrum. From the black hole at the center of the tear came her bag, as if someone on the other side had lobbed it out. It landed at her feet, with an audible ‘oof.’ The rent closed.
Neenahwi took out her robes and slipped them on, savoring the warmth, before fastening a belt around her waist and threading the chain back into her pendant. Finally, she lifted the Librarian out of the satchel and inspected him.
“Can I look now?” he asked.
“Yes,” she sighed. “Are you fine? No after effects from the summoning?”
“I am a little woozy, but I seem to be well. I must admit, that was a first. Please though, don’t put me back in that bag. It smells.”
She huffed, sure that it didn’t smell but not wanting to get into it with the wight right then. Taking his long top knot, she tied it around her belt, letting the head dangle against her thigh. There were no mirrors in that part of the palace, but she had the feeling she must look like a goblin chieftain she had once come across who had a penchant for hanging the severed heads of challengers about his middle.
“Much better,” said the Librarian. Neenahwi chose not to respond but picked up her bag and tossed the strap over her head. She strode deliberately to the room where Mareth and Petra had been held just an hour or so earlier, hoping that Grey or the false Mareth had not had the foresight to move them. The door opened with a push allowing the light to fill the room. There was a hiss from inside as Petra tried to shield her eyes.
Neenahwi released the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Thankfully they were still there. Petra was awake, but a quick glance at Mareth told her that he was faring worse. Unconscious and very pale. She walked over to Petra and squatted before her; hopefully she would be able to be of help.
“Neenahwi,” croaked Petra. “Is that you?”
“Yes. Don’t talk. I’ll get you out of here.” Neenahwi weaved two thin blocks of crushing force that she used to shatter the chains near the manacles. Petra’s arms fell to the floor, and she didn’t envy her the pins and needles that would greet her renewed circulation.
“Can you stand?” she asked.
“I… I don’t know.”
Neenahwi grabbed her under her arms and lifted her to her feet. Petra was unsteady, so Neenahwi gently guided her to the wall for support, suddenly aware of the overpowering smell of human waste that surrounded her. Mareth’s turn next. Neenahwi was appalled at the sadistic nature of Grey, to put them opposite each other to watch their loved one waste away. Though escaping without causing alarm was the priority, she almost wished she could show Grey what suffering was. Neenahwi lightly slapped the Lord Protector’s face and muttered his name but he did not stir. Neenahwi cut his chains too, and he slipped along the wall until he lay on the floor like he was having a nap.
“Is he still alive?” asked Petra in a parched voice, looking rather like a new born horse testing out its new legs.
“He’s still breathing,” was all she said in reply. She was worried. It didn’t look like either of them could make it out on their own, and she had only one pair of hands. She figured she was going to have to improvise.
“Are you ready?” she asked Petra who nodded tentatively in reply. “Good. Let’s get out of here.”
Neenahwi fractured her mind one more time, this aspect of herself concentrating on maintaining a length of invisible force that she used as a stretcher for Mareth. It was basically the same principle as what she used to keep her steel arrows aloft, but Mareth was a great deal heavier; it required a constant flow of mana from the demon stone to keep him in the air. He floated a foot off the stone floor as she helped Petra to leave the dungeon, her arm draped over Neenahwi’s shoulder with the mage’s arms holding her up at the waist. Mareth floated along behind them, moaning gently. It was slow going as they made their way back up the inclined passageway.
They reached the area where the various pantries were located, near to the kitchens, and thankfully there were few staff working now given the late hour. One girl hurried out of the meat locker, her arms full with bones that were probably destined for the stock pot, and took a quick look at the strange sight of Neenahwi carrying what was obviously a very poorly woman and a man who floated while he slept. She rushed off at a double pace shaking her head. Neenahwi had planned on them escaping a little more stealthily but the health of her two wards was worse than she had feared.
“What if she tells someone?” asked the Librarian in a hushed whisper.
Neenahwi shushed the head. What was she supposed to do? Attack all and sundry who they might meet on the way? She just had to hope that any servants would mark it off as the strange behavior of those in charge. She consoled herself with the fact that there were probably plenty that worked here that had seen worse when King Rudolph was still on the throne.
They turned a corner and Neenahwi could see the door to the gardens that she and Tuft had entered through. All they had to do was get past the doorway to the kitchens and then they’d be outside in the dark. As they passed the entrance to the kitchen, she couldn’t help herself from taking a look inside. There was the night-time staff, working on preparations for the meals the next day, getting started on baking the many loaves of bread that would be needed. And there at the table, exactly what she did not want to see, was a palace guard enjoying a late supper. Of course, he looked up at her, his eyebrows rising at the strange sight. He lowered the spoon from his mouth to the table, not yet saying a word.
“You there,” called Neenahwi. She realized she was potentially fucked now and needed to take command of the situation. “Do you know who I am?”
“Y—yes, Lady Neenahwi. I was just having a bowl of soup. I missed dinner…”
“I don’t care about that. Look here.” She pointed to the floating form of Mareth. “It’s the Lord Protector. He’s been taken ill. Go and find a surgeon and have him meet me in the Lord Protector’s apartment.”
The guard looked confused, but he at least got to his feet.
“Now!” commanded Neenahwi.
He got to his feet and ran, chainmail scraping against metal cuisse as he went. Neenahwi breathed a sigh of relief and saw the rest of the kitchen staff looking at her.
“Go back to your work. The Lord Protector will be fine, I assure you. But we do not wish to raise alarm so not a word of this to anyone.” The staff nodded and most of them turned back to their work. Neenahwi continued on her way to the door outside.
“Begging your pardon, my lady,” said one cook with a pointy nose, obviously not afraid to stick it where it wasn’t welcome. “But the Lord’s apartments are upstairs. The other direction.”
“I am well aware, thank you,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just get back to your duties and leave Lord Bollingsmead to me.” The cook nodded and made a show of stirring the bowl she held in her hands. That one worried Neenahwi, but once again, what could she do? Constantly using the demon stone was starting to wear at her patience. It had taken considerable self-control to handle that situation peacefully.
The cold air that hit her face after the warmth of the kitchen was a shock, but the dark night and the lack of prying eyes was a relief. Taking a left, she guided Petra out into the gardens, thankful that she seemed to be managing with a faster pace. They passed the rose garden, the great fish pond, and her father’s old home on the palace grounds that had now been given to the girl she was holding. Off in the distance she could see a light from the window of the guard tower that faced the Mountain Gate.
It was not too far now.<
br />
But as they neared, they had to take the pathway or wade through the assortment of topiary. To make matters worse, the pathway was lit with lanterns. Having no better option, she quickened the pace further and set off down the walkway, the flickering flames lighting her way and Petra’s feet dragging in the gravel as Neenahwi pulled her along, struggling to keep up.
“There they are!” came a call from behind her.
“You’ve got trouble,” said the Librarian. She turned to see a score or so of the palace guard running full tilt toward her. At their head it looked like Commander Grimes. Good. Hopefully she could get him to understand everything and she could maybe get this wrapped up tonight. Grey’s head on a pike would be a happy cap to the evening.
She stopped and waited for the soldiers to approach. They slowed to a walk as they got within twenty feet. The soldiers fanned out around her.
“Lady Neenahwi,” said Grimes sternly. “What is going on here?”
Before she could answer, Chancellor Grey arrived, threading her way through the burly armored men, her version of Mareth a couple of steps behind. “Who are these people you are abducting, mage?”
Shit.
“Petra!” cried the not-Mareth, who attempted to rush forward but was stopped by the outstretched hand of Grimes. The creature played his role well.
“I can explain,” said Neenahwi, lowering Petra to sit on the ground, raising her hands as she did so. “Commander Grimes. I know you have been a loyal servant to Edland your whole life. I need you to listen to me.” She pointed at the not-Mareth. “That is not the Lord Protector.”
“Pardon the bluntness, my lady. But he bloody well looks like it to me. You’re going to need to make more sense.”
“Don’t listen to her. Arrest her!” said Grey.
“Begging your pardon too, Chancellor. But I’m responsible for security of the whole city, including the palace. I’ll make my own assessments on what to do.”
Neenahwi wasn’t sure whether Grimes’ tentativeness was him really wanting to hear her out or well-placed fear of what might happen if he were to try to arrest her, but she needed to take advantage of it no matter what. She directed her pointed finger at the unconscious form of Mareth, lying on his floating litter. “This is the real Mareth Bollingsmead. Held captive in the dungeons by the Chancellor, along with this girl, and rescued by me tonight. That thing standing beside you is a creature of magic. Maybe even the same thing that attacked Uthridge in Redpool.” Grimes took a step away from the not-Mareth. She softened her tone before adding, “You know me, Grimes. You knew my father. When have we ever done anything that was not for the good of Kingshold?”
Grimes stepped forward and looked at the man floating in the air by Neenahwi’s thigh. He squinted his eyes and bent down to peer at his face, getting a closer look. “He does look a bit like the Lord Protector…” He stood up and turned to face the Chancellor. “What do you have to say about these claims?”
“This is preposterous, Commander,” scoffed Grey. “The Lord Protector stands with us. Who knows the evil intentions of this ‘daughter’ of Jyuth?” Neenahwi rolled her eyes. She was going to do this. Grimes would see through the charade; she could feel it. But as she returned her attention to the Pyrfew traitor, her magic eye saw subtle thin threads of mana reaching out to Grey from the plant life around. “You know as well as I that Jyuth replaced those on the throne that he did not like. Did he not behead our last King and Queen? It is obvious that the apple does not fall far from the tree and she wants to control the Lord Protector!”
“I helped him win the election, you moron,” shouted Neenahwi, the red edge of the demon stone rubbing away at her control.
“I did too,” said Grey. “And I am the one who has been by his side the whole time while you have been working your schemes. Look at her Commander, she has reverted to her savage ways. Blood all down her clothes, a head dangling from her belt as a trophy.” Neenahwi looked down to see that the amulet had been tearing away at her flesh above her breastbone, writhing away at the constant use, and a long red stain stretched down her robes. Her heart sank as she looked to Grimes to find him listening. Neenahwi scanned the faces of the guard surrounding her and saw that they were enraptured too. “How barbaric,” added Grey.
Grimes looked back at Neenahwi and shook his head like he was trying to clear a fuzz from his brain.
“Don’t listen to her,” warned Neenahwi.
“I think you have said enough, traitor. Edland will be better without the meddling ways of you and your father. Commander. Knight Guard. You know who you serve. You know what is right.”
As one, Commander Grimes and the armored guard nodded their heads. The Not-Mareth, who had been quiet through all of these proceedings—and surely there could be no bigger tell that there was something wrong, when had Mareth ever not wanted to hear himself talk—took that moment to speak. “Take her!” he commanded.
There was a swish as a score of blades were pulled from scabbards, and the Knight Guard advanced.
Chapter 25
No Better Than Her Father
It was not a slow constriction of the circle. No, the soldiers came all at once, in a rush with swords held high. More than a few called out, “For Edland”. It seemed that arrest was off the cards. Thankfully, she was somewhat prepared; there were two aspects of her mind at the ready.
The first, the part of her that had been concentrating on levitating Mareth’s body, pulled the force out from under him. He fell to the ground with a thud and Neenahwi erected a dome of protection around the three of them. Her other aspect pulled at the mana within the demon stone. Roiling red threads streamed out at her command, more than she needed, calling out to her to destroy her attackers, to drown them in a sea of fire and dance while their bones burned. It poked and prodded at her self-control, sliding under her nails and stinging the quicks of the fingers. The demon stone whispered in her ear that this was the moment she had been waiting for. Now was the time she could finish off those that stood against her. It would kill them all, and then she could reign. Edland would be hers.
The Neenahwi that controlled her body screamed, “No!” The charging soldiers more than likely thought she was just exclaiming at their attack, but she was crying out at herself not to give in to the rage. She had been using the stone too much. She couldn’t let go. She knew what would happen. That night on Mount Tiston, when she had used its power whilst in the middle of a vision, came back to her. If she unleashed the fire then would she ever stop? Would Kingshold survive?
Neenahwi clenched her teeth and she screamed internally once more, cutting off the flow of mana from the stone. She had to, otherwise she would surely kill the ensorcelled soldiers. Jyuth had warned her about losing control, but more importantly she had made a vow to herself. When she had read with disgust the things that her father had done in his letter; she vowed she would not take the lives of innocents. The mana that had already come from the red gem writhed in her hands, but she poured her will into containing it, squeezing it into a small ball of blue energy.
The soldiers crashed into the invisible field around her and were repelled backwards. They swore and snarled in confusion, tried attacking it with their swords; and all the while, Neenahwi could feel it weakening under the continued assault. She needed to end this. Without the power of the stone she couldn’t keep it up, and it would only be a matter of time until more guards came. She needed to get out of here.
Neenahwi threw the blue marble a few feet in front of her. It passed through the wall of her shield and hit the ground with a flash of bright white light. The Knight Guard were flung away from the epicenter of the explosion as it spread in invisible waves. A terrible crack filled the night as the air rushed back into the space where the explosion had begun. Commander Grimes and his men lay in heaps all around, unmoving. She hoped they were just unconscious, that at least had been her intention, their armor protecting them from serious harm.
She let her shield fall. M
areth rolled from his back onto his side, groaning all the while, his eyes open, awake either from the tremendous noise or the fall to the ground. Petra held her hands to her ears.
“She’s getting up,” warned the Librarian from below her waist. To begin with, Neenahwi didn’t know who he was talking about. But then she saw Grey standing up from where she had been flung more than fifty feet away. The Not-Mareth rose by her side, drawing his sword.
“No. Leave her to me,” grimaced Grey. “I cannot have you injured.”
Fuck!
The woman who had been a wizard and a traitor, within their midst the whole time, walked slowly forward.
Neenahwi rummaged in her satchel and pulled out two steel arrows, throwing them into the air. Using her own life force, not daring right now to draw again on the stone, she spun a thread of magic to first suspend and then shoot them toward Grey. They flew like streaks of silver toward the Chancellor’s body. But she did not flinch or throw herself to the side. She merely swatted the missiles away as they neared, the arrows shooting off into the night sky. Neenahwi concentrated and brought their flight under control, sending them arcing down toward Grey once more. Again, they hit invisible forces that caused them to ricochet to the ground. Neenahwi was sweating under the exertion. She had never battled another wizard before; she didn’t even know there were any more other than herself and Jyuth, and Llewdon. The steel arrows weren’t going to be any good here.
Still, Grey walked forward, but she did not attack.
“Neenahwi,” said Grey with a note of friendship in her voice, like they had fallen out over who should have the last cream cake at tea. “We don’t need to fight. You and I should work together, not apart.”
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