Sovereign of the Seven Isles 7: Reishi Adept (9 page)

LaChance approached as Alexander opened his Wizard’s Den and Rangers began carrying their dead and wounded.
He directed them to the tent Lita had commandeered to treat the injured.

“Considering that the enemy never made it to our line, I take it they’ve been dispatched.”

“All but a handful,” Alexander said. “Unfortunately, Tyr escaped.”

“That’s a pity,” LaChance said. “I’ll put together a hunting party. He won’t get far on foot.”

Alexander nodded approvingly, scanning the town square and seeing a few of the dead still scattered where they’d fallen. People were gathered in the shadows as if waiting for something. Fear and anger clouded their colors. Many held tools: woodsmen’s axes, pitchforks and the like. Others held torches. A man pushed through the crowd carrying the body of a young girl, no more than ten. Tears streaked his face. He approached Alexander with the defiance of a man who believed he had nothing left to lose. He didn’t seem to notice when Anja stepped up next to Alexander and drew her sword.

“That won’t be necessary,”
Alexander said.

She put the point of her blade in the dirt and rested her hands on the pommel, eyeing the approaching man and the small mob assembling behind him.

Jataan seemed to materialize on Alexander’s other side, hands clasped casually behind his back.

The man laid the child at Alexander’s feet and
looked at him, his face a mask of sorrow, his red eyes puffy from tears.

“You killed her,” he said, a tremor rippling through his voice.

Another man stepped up next to him, an axe held at his side.

“He’s right. You may not have landed the blow
, but you’re responsible for her death.”

The crowd murmured in agreement.

“You brought war.”

“We lived in peace until you arrived.”

“Look at her. Look at the dead scattered all around you.”

“It’s all your fault.”

A woman, her colors flushed with anger, stepped up. “What do you have to say for yourself? We deserve an answer!”

The crowd shouted agreement.

“We deserve justice!” another shouted, eliciting loud agreement and more than a few raised makeshift weapons.

“He should pay for his crimes!”

Loud assent followed, though none stepped forward.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” the woman demanded.

The anger of the crowd rose, shouts for justice and reprisal filling the square. Rangers began to fan out behind Alexander, positioning themselves.

Alexander regarded the crowd
calmly for a moment, letting their emotion flow until it reached a peak, until they were a moment away from taking action, and then he raised his light, flooding the square with brilliance.

Most in the
crowd shielded their eyes, anger turning to fear. He held the brightness for only a moment before letting it go dark, filling the square with shadow and the flickering light of fire and lamp … and deafening silence.

“You claim that I’ve b
rought war to your home, but I’m just returning the favor. You and yours brought war to me first. Did you think your country could wage war in other lands without reprisal or repercussion—without consequence to you?”

“That wasn’t our doing,” a man shouted.

“We’re not to blame for what our king does,” a woman said.

“Wrong!” Alexander said. “Those who rule over you are tyrants—crimi
nals of the highest order. They derive their power from your consent, from your obedience. If you choose to disobey, then they have no authority. Your acquiescence grants them power. The very same power they used to bring war to my home.

“Obedience to tyranny is a crime against humanity. Every one of you who obeyed the laws and edicts of your corrupt rulers are complicit in their crimes. You enabled them to commit atrocities the world over because you obeyed.

“Each and every one of you is a sovereign human being with free will granted to you by the Maker. But he didn’t leave you to wander in this life without guidance. He whispers truth to you in the face of every moral dilemma you encounter. At every turn, with every choice, you have only to listen to your conscience to know the right and just course.

“
But you chose to submit to the will of tyrants and liars, to place their dictates above true justice. You chose to believe that because another claims authority over you, that their word is law, but it is not. There is only one law … the Old Law. And it comes not from the will of men, but from the nature of the world.

“When you chose to ignore that, when you chose to deny the gentle voice of morality that is your conscience in favor of obedience to an authority that has no rightful claim on your free will, you chose tyranny and war.

“And now the consequences of your choices have come back to you … and they are unbearable,” Alexander said, gesturing to the dead child at his feet.

“Many of you will not accept the truth of my words. Many will go on believing that I have wronged you because to do otherwise would require
that you face your part in this war, that you admit guilt, even if only to yourself.

“
Worse still, it would require that you disobey the dictates of those who would rule over you. And each and every one of you knows that the murderers behind your dead king have no qualms about causing death and suffering to those who disobey.

“But that
simple fact, the lengths to which they are willing to go to ensure your obedience, reveals the one undeniable and immutable truth of tyranny … it cannot survive if you do not obey.

“Go home. Mourn your dead. But know this, war has come to your shores and it will only end with the death of tyranny or the death of the Old Law. And as with all war, this one will be decided in the hearts and minds of the people long before i
t’s decided on the battlefield.

“Ultimately, your future comes down to one simple question:
Will you choose to stand in the light or will you choose to bow to the darkness? I suggest you listen carefully to your conscience before answering.”

Alexander turned away from the crowd, his heart heavy despite the heat he felt coursing through his veins. So much loss. And for what? So that some few could rule over others. Such a selfish and trifling thing in the face of an innocent child’s death.

Chapter 7

Isabel had to admit that she had allowed despair to get the better of her; worse still, her dour mood had infected her friends. Both Wren and Lacy seemed resigned to their fate. Both looked to her for guidance and leadership … and she had offered precious little of either.

Alexander’s visit had reminded
her that hope never dies. He’d turned the tables against overwhelming odds. He’d taken victory from those who thought they’d already won. Phane would be learning of Mithel Dour soon. What Isabel would give to see his reaction.

She laughed to herself. Softly but with genuine mirth. Lacy looked a bit worried
. Wren more hopeful. Isabel decided then and there to get back into the fight. She had come here for a purpose, several really, and she had yet to accomplish her goals.

Rather than worry about the problems she faced, she
decided to consider her options, to look with fresh eyes at her situation and see if there were opportunities she could exploit.

Killing Phane was unlikely. He was too well protected.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t hurt him or deprive him of resources or capabilities. She’d broken his mirror … no small thing. And yet, that had only been possible through his carelessness and her brazenness. Yet the result was undeniable. His vision was diminished. Information that would have been at his disposal with virtually no effort was now out of reach, or at the very least, difficult and costly to obtain.

So what else could she break?

What did he have in the fortress city that she could destroy? He had no wizards. His soldiers were too numerous to attack in any meaningful way. The fortress walls were far too stout for any power at her disposal. The wraithkin—

Isabel froze with the thought. It hadn’t crossed her mind before. Alexander had scouted the chamber and found it too well defended to even consider … but he wasn’t here, and he wasn’t
as desperate as she was.

What if she could get to Azugorath?

The Wraith Queen resided deep under the black tower, Phane’s fortress in the center of the city. Outwardly, it wasn’t especially well guarded, but she knew better. Within, its defenses were likely well beyond her.

But the prize was worth the risk. If she could kill Azugorath, she would be free of Phane’s power. She could escape. She could return to Alexander.

That left the how. She had no power capable of banishing a demon without access to the light, and the light was denied her by the demon she needed to banish. Even with her access to the realm of light restored, she gave even odds that her Maker’s light spell would only annoy a demon queen like Azugorath.

What if
—

She dismissed the thought. It was madness … and yet, her situation called for something truly desperate.

What if she freed the Wraith Queen from her cage? Surely Phane would not abide Azugorath’s unfettered presence in the world of time and substance. He would take steps to bring her under his control, or send her back from whence she came.

He
could banish her.

But would he?

And what of the wraithkin? Would they remain loyal to him if their mother was freed. More likely, they would turn on him at Azugorath’s direction.

And what would she do? What if she killed Phane? Then what?

The solution could easily be worse than the problem.

Isabel turned it over in her mind, searching for another weak point where she could strike, but found none. In many ways, Phane’s greatest weakness was also a strength. He was all alone. He trusted no one, so there was no one he relied on enough to make them a worthwhile target.

That left Azugorath.

“We should talk,” she said, though she had yet to form even the seed of a plan.

Wren and Lacy came to her on the balcony, seating themselves around a small table.

“Do you have an idea?” Lacy asked.

Isabel took a deep breath and started talking. She didn’t stop until she’d laid out her entire plan.

“That’s insane!” Lacy said.

“It does sound dangerous,” Wren said.

“I can’t argue with either of you, but we have to do something,” Isabel said, doubt creeping
into the back of her mind.

“How do you know this idea wasn’t planted by the Wraith Queen in the first place?” Lacy asked.

“I don’t … but I don’t think it was.”

“What if you fail? What if Phane finds you out?”

“Then I’ll have gained valuable information that Alexander can use when he comes.”

“He can get that information with his magic anyway. You’ll be risking your life for nothing.”

“I’d be risking my life for freedom,” Isabel said. “You don’t know what it’s like having her in my head, infecting my dreams, making me question my own thoughts. Sometimes I think I’m losing my mind. I have to do something.”

“
And what if you succeed?” Wren asked. “What if you free her, and she gets loose?”

“I don’t know,” Isabel whispered. “I
just know I have to do something.”

“Sometimes the best course of action is inaction,” Lacy said. “My father used to say that when he was facing a particularly difficult decision. Maybe now is one of those times.”

Isabel was starting to doubt herself again, starting to doubt the ideas in her own head. It was intolerable. She felt so helpless, and yet Lacy was probably right.

“We have to find a way to strike,” she muttered.

“Strike who, Mother?” said a strangely inhuman female voice from the threshold of her chambers.

Isabel whirled to
her feet, facing the intruder who had entered so silently. It was one of Phane’s female guards, a woman Isabel had seen before.

H
earing her voice and seeing the expression on her face, Isabel knew who it really was.

“What do you want, Rankosi?”

Lacy motioned for Wren to get behind her as she picked up a dinner knife from the table.

“I want to hurt Phane
. I want to watch him squirm helplessly. I want to take everything he holds dear and smash it into dust. He holds you dear … Mother.”

“We both know you aren’t going to kill me,” Isabel said, casually angling to place herself between Rankosi and
her friends.

The face of the possessed woman contorted into inhuman rage for just a moment before regaining composure.

“I could kill them,” he said. “Phane would be displeased with their deaths.”

“True, but I bet you’d like more than
just his displeasure,” Isabel said.

Rankosi snarled, stepping aggressively forward but stopping a second later.

“I want to wear his skin like a cloak and dance on his chest while he screams.”

“So why don’t you just kill him?” Lacy asked.

“Silence!” he shouted at the top of his stolen lungs. “You do not get to speak to me. In fact, I have a score to settle with you. Perhaps I shall settle it right now.” He drew his sword and started forward.

A step and a half later, Isabel blew the possessed soldier across the room with
a force-push spell.

“You will fail, Rankosi. I
will kill you before I let you harm them.”

“You’ll kill this body … not me. I’ll just take another and return, again and again. Or maybe, I’ll take her.” He pointed at Wren.

Isabel chuckled, shaking her head. “You couldn’t take her if you tried for a hundred years. I know what you need to possess a person, and she doesn’t have it.”

He looked intently at Wren for a moment before turning away with a thoroug
hly inhuman growl and retrieving his sword. He stalked toward Isabel but stopped well out of reach.

“I will have my vengeance. Phane tricked me. He deceived me. He will pay.”

“So go make him pay.”

“He feels no guilt,” R
ankosi said, spitting on the floor. “He does not despair. He is beyond my possession.”

“So kill him,” Isabel said with a shrug.

“This body is too weak.”

“Well then, I don’t know what to tell you … unless
—”

“Unless what?”

“He derives great power from the Wraith Queen. If you banished her, he would be furious.”

“Again, this body lacks the necessary
power.”

“The
n free her,” Isabel said.

“You know not what you ask, Mother. Azugorath’s appetite is voracious.
I would have some few humans remain in this world. I do so enjoy the fear of those I possess.”

“Colluding with a shade,” Phane said, seeming to step into the room out of thin air. “I wouldn’t have expected that. Oh, Isabel, if only you would let me teach you. You have no idea the power I could show you.”

“I have some idea, Phane.”

Rankosi snarled
at him. “You will pay. The dragon was a powerful possession.”

“Far too powerful, I’m afraid,” Phane said
, stifling a yawn. “Be gone, Shade. These women belong to me. Go meddle elsewhere.”

“I will taste your fear, Mage.”

“No, you won’t. The darkness holds no fear for me. I embrace it and it nuzzles me back.”

Before Rankosi could respond, Phane smashed the soldier into the wall with his magic so forcefully that blood sprayed across most of the room. A faint shadow with glowing red eyes floated through the
stained wall and was gone.

“He presents something of a dilemma to me,” Phane said. “If I banish him, your link to the netherworld will vanish and Azugorath will lose what tenuous hold she has on you, yet if I let him roam free, there’s no telling what mischief he’ll cause.”

“I say you send him back where he belongs,” Isabel said.

“I’m sure you’
d like that. Of course, you have no say in the matter. The real question is, how do I put him to work for me?”

“I’d be more worried about what he’s going to do to you,” Isabel said. “He seemed pretty intent on hurting you.
And I can’t say I blame him. You have that effect on people.”

“Charming as ever, Isabel
, but you needn’t worry about me.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried.”

He flashed his boyish smile. “Perhaps we should try again. You overcame Azugorath’s influence once before, but that may have been the product of chance.” He turned to Wren. “What do you say, Child? Are you ready to die today?”

Wren’s eyes widened and she started trembling slightly but she held her ground
without flinching. “Why don’t you just leave people alone? Or better yet, why don’t you help them? You have so much power. You could do so much good, but instead you choose to do this.” She tapped the collar around her neck.

He regarded her for a moment, slowly shaking his head. “I don’t expect you to understand. Suffice it to say, some are born to rule
, others are born to serve. War and strife arise when those who live to serve fail to accept their place in the world.

“Civilization itself depends upon obedience to authority. Without it, there would be chaos.”

“You’re wrong,” Wren said. “Civilization depends on respecting other people. From what I’ve seen, authority is just an excuse used by liars to take from others.”

“Says the child wearing the slave collar.”

“You make my point,” Wren said.

“
And you miss mine,” Phane said. “Authority can only be claimed by those with adequate power and will. A ruler must be ruthless. He must be willing to do that which others will not or he’ll be killed by his rivals. Don’t you see? The authority upon which peace and security rests cannot survive in your imaginary world of moral strictures. Oh sure, for ordinary people your precious Old Law is a useful construct, but in the real world, where the fate of nations is decided, power is survival and weakness is certain death. All of your artificial moral limitations are meaningless. Do you really think my enemies feel bound by the Old Law?”

“Alexander does,” Isabel said.

“So you say, and I honestly hope you’re right, because that will assure my victory against him. But what of Zuhl? Will he voluntarily limit his actions to appease some imagined conscience or to conform with some outdated and archaic moral code?

“He certainly will not. He’ll use any and all power at his
disposal to kill me and claim total power. What’s more, if he succeeds, then he will be the rightful sovereign.

“Those who would rule
live every day of their lives on a battlefield. It cannot be otherwise. To step forth onto that battlefield and yet be unwilling to do the distasteful things necessary to secure victory is nothing short of suicide.”

“Wrong again, Phane,” Isabel said. “To rule with restraint and compassion is nobility. To sacrifice for your people rather than expect them to sacrifice for you
is the very heart of honor. The sovereign who can do that will win the love of his people and through their love he will earn their loyalty—true loyalty, which is something you’ll never have. Real loyalty is not obedience born of fear, but a genuine willingness to sacrifice for principle. What you fail to grasp is that the people who fight under Alexander’s banner don’t fight for him, they fight for themselves and for their families. They don’t serve him, they serve his master—the Old Law.”