Catalyst (Book 1) (16 page)

CHAPTER 12

The guard escorted us down a long hallway. My feet didn’t make a sound on the thick red carpet. My heart beat so loudly it drowned out Prastian's conversation with the guard. I wiped the sweat from the sides of my cheeks. I was so close to Krystal, but would I be able to see her? If I could just see if she was all right, I would breathe a little easier. I didn’t know if I would get to talk to her. I hadn’t told the elves that I had once met the princess, or that she owed me a debt. I wasn’t sure I wanted them to use that for their own political advantage.

I shook my head. I had to remember I wasn’t here just for her. King Sharald had sent me here for a purpose, and I had agreed to help his cause. Something was wrong with Alexandria. The creatures from the Wastelands should not be getting through. There were also the missing elves to think about. I flexed my fingers until my knuckles cracked. How in the Inferno was I going to handle all of this?

The hallway ended in the throne room. There was no one sitting on the great throne.

“Wait here,” the guard said. “The king will be here shortly.”

Behast grunted, standing with his arms crossed. “I don’t like this. Something has smelled bad since we entered the city, and I don’t mean the sewers.”

“I’m excited!” Demay said. “I’ve never been here before. I wish it was under better circumstances, though.” His face grew sober for a moment, but he couldn’t remain serious for long. Almost immediately his eyes sparkled again, taking in the stained glass windows, the tapestries depicting famous battles, and the alabaster of warriors.

The sun set and twilight deepened, and still we waited. Demay soon grew tired of paintings, stained glass windows, and statues. He shifted and fidgeted. Behast was as still as a statue, but his fingers kept trying to grab a phantom sword. I looked at every servant and guard who walked by, hoping it was the princess. I prayed she would recognize me, smile, and say everything was all right. She never came. Prastian was the calmest one of us all. He stood still and politely greeted everyone who walked by. He struck up a couple of conversations, trying to get information, but no one wanted to stop and chat.

“You're getting nowhere, Prastian,” Behast said.

Prastian smiled at the bigger elf. “That's not true. I've learned plenty of things. I’ve learned that everyone here is tense, and they’re looking over their shoulders as if they expect to be punished at any moment. More importantly, I've learned that no one's seen the other elves, and Jerrel hasn’t lied to us.”

“Then where are they?” Demay asked.

“I wish I knew, little brother. I wish I knew.” Prastian took a deep breath. “I can only pray to the gods the king knows and is able to help us.”

“And where is the human king?” Behast asked. “Does he normally keep you waiting this long?”

Prastian shook his head. “No, and that worries me. Even if the king were detained by a crisis, one of his advisors would normally come and greet us, offering refreshments. To ignore a direct envoy from another monarch is a grave breach of protocol.”

As time passed, my empty stomach rumbled from the lack of food. All of us were so tired of waiting we didn't even have the energy to speak to each other anymore. Prastian gave up trying to talk to the people that came by. We just stood there, absorbed in our own thoughts.

Finally, a guard came up to us and said, “The king will be here shortly.”

Behast snorted.

Before Behast could say anything, Prastian said in a pleasant voice, “Thank you. We know how busy kings can be.”

The guard nodded and left.

“Prastian,” an aged, sickly voice said. “It's good to see you again.” We all turned to see who it was.

The king had entered through a door near the throne. He was dressed in white velvet, jewel-encrusted robes that flowed behind him in a train. The robes made him look small, and he walked as if he were weak and frail, not like a man who controlled the most vital pass between the Wastelands and Northern Shala. The king came forward and sat upon his throne. Dark purple circles surrounded his eyes. A dark form followed him through the door and stood obscured in the shadows.

“Your Majesty,” Prastian said. We all dropped to one knee.

“Prastian, my friend,” King Furlong said. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time. Too long. I've missed your company.” He managed a weak but sincere smile.

“And I've missed yours, Your Majesty.”

The king opened his mouth to speak, but a coughing fit seized him. He looked like he wouldn’t be able to stop. Servants moved in to help, but he got hold of himself and waved them away. He rubbed a silk cloth over his forehead. One of the servants brought him a cup of water.

“Forgive the interruption.” King Furlong drank the water and sighed in relief. “There’s nothing like water to cure what ails you.” He took a deep breath before squinting at me. “Who is the human with you, Prastian? He’s strangely dressed for spring.”

“He’s a friend and advisor of King Sharald’s, sire. Our king thought it best that he should come with us.”

The king nodded. “Why are you here, Prastian?” Though he spoke to the elf, the king never took his eyes off me. Despite how sick he looked, his blue eyes were like a hawk's.

“Our king sent us here to follow up on a delegation that was sent here before us. It's been weeks, and we've heard nothing from them.”

The king leaned forward. “I've not seen any elves lately.”

“Are you sure, Sire? They should have been here.”

“I'm positive. I've not seen any elves.” The king glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of each guard and servant. They all shook their head no.

My eyes met the king's, and I believed him.

“Why did King Sharald send his elves here?” King Furlong asked.

“Your Majesty, as of late we have encountered many creatures from the Wastelands in our forests, and have heard reports and rumors throughout the land of many more, wreaking havoc. We know some creatures are bound to get through into Northern Shala, but there haven’t been this many incidents since the War of the Wizards.”

King Furlong inhaled, his wispy breath echoing through the great hall. An expression of worry came over his face. “I don’t understand, old friend. I’ve not heard of such reports.”

A voice spoke from the shadows behind the throne. “That’s because there have been none, Sire.”

The king gestured. “This is my advisor, Premier.”

The man stepped out of the shadows and nodded. Premier wore robes similar to mine, though his were deep black. Not just black like mine were, or like someone’s hair or eyes. It was the darkest black I had ever seen—like it was made from the night and shadows. Our eyes met, and he feigned a smile. I did the same. There was something about him that made my hackles rise.

Even though his skin was aged and hung from his body, Premier somehow didn’t look old. His body was as frail as the king’s, but there was an air of power about him. He looked as though he could remain alive and vital simply because he wished it.

I extended my magical senses to see if Premier was a wizard. I closed my eyes, focusing on my power and trying to make it subtle, lest he deflect it and put his guards up. My mana brushed up against his skin, trying to detect some hint of power or see if he would block my attempt. I picked up nothing. That disturbed me. Unlike the elves, there wasn’t a wisp of mana there. Cynder carried red mana and Master Stradus blue. Even ordinary people carried a tiny hint of mana—their life force. Premier was like a void. If I didn’t know better, I would say he wasn’t even there. Or he was dead.

I wished Master Stradus was here. Premier had too great an aura of power to be an ordinary human, but if he was a wizard, he hid his mana. I would need to see him perform some kind of spell to be sure.

But wizard or no, advisor or no, vision or no, I didn’t trust him.

I opened my eyes, and Premier smirked at me.

“If he’s an advisor, he hasn’t been doing a very good job,” Behast said in a tone low enough for only us to hear. I had to strain my ears, though the elves had an easy time hearing him with their long ears.

“Premier, is there any truth to what our forest friends say?” King Furlong asked, turning an eye to his advisor.

Premier leaned in and whispered in King Furlong’s ear. The elves’ ears twitched, but from the look of frustration on Demay’s face, they heard nothing. The king started coughing again, but I still sensed no magic. I needed to know more about Premier.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught movement that distracted me from Premier and King Furlong. I turned, and saw her. She took my magic and my breath away.

Her sun-streaked hair had grown, flowing down her back from the small jeweled tiara she wore. She had grown up, as I had, as her snug blue satin dress made clear. She held herself upright, with an aura of strength as her shield. I stared at her, drinking in her face and body. She seemed physically all right, thank the gods. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything wrong.

Behast elbowed me, bringing me back to the present. I remembered where I was and what we were in the middle of. My face heated up. Not only had I gotten distracted from our mission, but I’d been staring at the princess like a loutish farm boy.

The king's intense gaze fastened on me. “This young man seems to have forgotten that we were speaking. It seems the princess is much more interesting than our conversation.”

Now my face burned like fire. I’d insulted the king and the princess both, with one look. Had everyone noticed me gawking? My first impulse was to glance at the princess. I stopped myself. I wasn't going to find any help from her or my friends for my mistake. She might not even remember me. We had only met once, and it was years ago. I was a nobody from a village no one had even heard of. I knelt on one knee, staring at the seams in the stone floor.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” I said.

Prastian rescued me. “The princess’s beauty is legendary, but it cannot compare to the reality,” he said smoothly. “It seems that Hellsfire was temporarily overcome.”

The king still did not look pleased. The princess stepped forward.

“Prastian,” she said, “how good it is to see you again.”

“Princess,” Prastian said. “It's good to see you too.” He bowed to her, and the other elves followed suit.

“I was just telling my father the other day how we've not seen any of our friends from Sharald in ages.” Krystal touched me lightly on the shoulder. “You may rise, Hellsfire. It’s good to see you again as well. I didn't know you were a friend of Sharald's.” I smiled up at her, pleased and surprised she recognized me.

I got to my feet and bowed, much more clumsily than the elves. “Your Highness.”

The king's angry expression melted into one of confusion. “Krystal? You know this man?”

 
“Yes, Your Majesty. He once saved my life.”

The king leaned forward. “Really? When was this?” I noticed that Premier seemed interested as well.

“Several years ago, when I traveled Northern Shala.”

King Furlong nodded and sighed. “Ah. I remember.” He looked at me. “So you’re the one who saved my precious daughter from those bandits?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said.

“Then I’m in your debt.” The king forced a smile. It wasn’t exactly in appreciation. He still looked suspicious of me. He coughed again, gasping for air. When he recovered, he said, “I must leave you now. The guards will show you to your rooms. I will see you tonight at dinner.” Premier whispered in the king’s ear. “I will have to ask all of you to wait in your rooms until then.”

“Father, would you like me to accompany you back to your room?”