Sovereign Stone (39 page)

Rage flooded into him, filling every corner of his being with indignant fury. He surged toward the man, but before he could reach him, another mounted Lancer pointed his lance at him and a blast of magical force launched him from his feet and onto his back. He lay on the cold stone of the courtyard, listening to the derisive laughter of his enemy as his consciousness faded away in an ocean of pain.

He woke chained to a chair in a dimly lit room. For a moment he didn’t know where he was until he took a breath and the pain of his broken ribs racked through his body. He felt the terror of panic well up inside him before he gained control and withdrew to the place where his own personal witness lived. He took refuge in the calm stillness of that corner of his mind where nothing mattered, where he could simply observe events unfold with detachment.

The pain was still there but it was farther away. He looked around and saw Anatoly, Lucky, Abigail, and Isabel lined up along the wall, chained to chairs of their own. They wore a mixture of pain, anger, and fear on their faces. He tried to give them each a measure of his strength with a brief glance. Jack was nowhere to be seen.

A soldier dressed in the uniform of Kai’Gorn noticed that Alexander was awake and grabbed him roughly by the hair to tip his head back so he could look into his glittering eyes.

“You awake?” he asked, clearly not expecting an answer.

Once he was satisfied that Alexander was conscious, he left the room. It was only then that Alexander looked more closely at his surroundings. The stone-walled room was dirty and dark. The only light was the product of several old and poorly kept oil lamps. There were stains on the stone floor, and the one table in the room had tools of torture carefully laid out on its surface as if they were on display.

Alexander caught his breath. He could take what pain they might inflict on him—he’d endured the trial of pain during the mana fast. But the thought of Isabel or Abigail being tortured made his soul quail in fear.

When he heard the boot steps in the hall, he knew things were about to go from bad to worse. The door opened and four men entered. The first wore a gaudy, jewel-encrusted golden crown. He was an older man with graying hair and a drawn face. His skin looked like it was two sizes too big and hung on his large frame in drooping folds. He wore a heavy gold ring on each finger and had at least half a dozen jeweled chains around his neck. His heavy velvet red robes were decorated at the hem with gold filigree.

The next man through the door looked similar in facial features and frame except he was strong and fit. He wore a breastplate emblazoned with the crest of Kai’Gorn and carried a finely wrought short sword on his wide belt. Captain Tate filed in next, followed by the soldier who had been waiting for Alexander to wake up. When Alexander looked closer at the man and saw that his smock had dried blood encrusted on it, he realized that he was a torturer.

Alexander scrutinized their colors and saw the vicious selfishness of evil burning brightly in each of them, with the sole exception of Captain Tate.

The man with the crown looked at Alexander for a moment as if considering his worth. “I am Magistrate Cain. This is my brother General Cain, and I believe you have already met Captain Tate.” He spoke with disdain and haughty arrogance. “It would seem that the reign of the pretender is at an end, wouldn’t you say?” He looked at his brother who chuckled as he nodded in agreement.

“Commander P’Tal will be along in a few days to collect you. Apparently, Prince Phane now believes you can help him retrieve an item of importance to him, with the proper persuasion, of course.” He smiled knowingly at Isabel and Abigail. Alexander felt a mixture of rage and despair well up within him. “Until then, you will be my guests.” The magistrate turned to the man with the smock and snapped his fingers. The man handed him the Thinblade, still in its scabbard.

With a greedy smile of triumph, Magistrate Cain took the Sword of Kings and held it up in front of Alexander almost reverently as if it were a talisman that conferred untold power upon its holder. “It is said that the one who wields this sword is the rightful King of Ruatha. That’s fitting because I expect Prince Phane to grant me command of Ruatha in exchange for delivering you into his care.”

Alexander snorted derisively and looked up at the magistrate with unconcealed contempt. “At best you’ll be his puppet, at worst you’ll be a meal for one of his pets. Either way, you’ll never taste freedom again.”

The magistrate laughed. “Who needs freedom when you have power?” he said as he drew the Thinblade with a flourish. The sword came free of the scabbard and promptly slipped out of his hand and flipped through the air. It caught General Cain by surprise and sliced him cleanly in half. His torso fell away from his legs, and his hands and forearms thudded to the ground, staining the floor with lurid red splatters.

The Thinblade wound up stuck into the stone wall, blood dripping from its inky black blade. A crimson pool quickly spread across the dirty stone floor as General Cain’s lifeblood drained from his broken body. The magistrate stared at the mutilated corpse of his brother with shock. He tried to speak but nothing came out.

Alexander laughed.

Cain’s face turned scarlet. He backhanded Alexander across the face. “You did this!” he shouted with fury as he hit Alexander again.

Alexander smiled and spit blood at the magistrate’s boots. “It’s not your sword,” he said, working his jaw.

Magistrate Cain seized him by the collar and jerked him up straight so he could shout into his face. “You will pay for this! You will tell me how to command the sword or I will make you suffer until you do.”

Captain Tate cleared his throat. “Magistrate, I must remind you of Prince Phane’s orders. He is not to be harmed.”

The magistrate looked coldly at the captain and snorted. “I don’t have to hurt him to make him suffer.” Then he turned to the torturer. “Don’t cause him any permanent harm, but make him talk.”

The torturer brought a wide bucket of water and placed it in front of Alexander, then roughly tipped him over in his chair onto his knees with his chest resting against the edge of the bucket. The pressure on his ribs was agony. He could barely breathe.

Then the torturer pushed his head into the water. The suffocating feeling coupled with his injured ribs was beyond any pain he’d felt since the trials of the mana fast. He could hear Isabel and Abigail crying out on his behalf and knew that even this pain was nothing compared to the pain he would feel when the magistrate decided to use them against him. The torturer pulled his face up out of the frigid water and Alexander gasped for breath, sputtering.

“How does the Thinblade work?” asked the magistrate calmly, clearly enjoying Alexander’s suffering.

Alexander ignored him, struggling to breathe. The torturer shoved his head back into the water. The pain was almost unbearable, but Alexander knew where to take refuge against it. He withdrew once again into the place within his psyche that didn’t feel, that only observed. He saw the racking pain his body was enduring but it mattered less when he viewed it from the little corner of safety within his mind.

He could hear Chloe whimpering in the background of his consciousness, but he forbade her to reveal herself. Even through the distraction of torture, he knew that Phane was aware of her and intended to use her to obtain the Sovereign Stone. The last thing he wanted was to confirm her existence to the enemy.

“Find Jack and tell him where we are,” he thought to her.

“Hold on, My Love,” she said in his mind. “We will save you.”

The torture lasted for hours. Alexander used his all around sight to watch the scene from a different perspective. He found that looking at the situation from the viewpoint of an observer helped him remain within the safety of the detached corner of his consciousness. The hardest part was seeing the tears of anguish streaming down the faces of his wife and sister. Lucky had his eyes closed and was doing his best to shut out the horrible experience. Anatoly wore a grim expression of pure coiled rage; Alexander knew things would go badly for these men when Anatoly and his war axe were reunited. He took solace in that thought.

Eventually, Alexander became so exhausted that Captain Tate stepped forward. “Enough! You risk killing him.”

The magistrate turned and faced the captain with a look of cold fury. “He killed my brother!” he shouted, but Tate held his ground. “Who do you serve anyway?”

“You know very well that I am an agent of the Reishi Protectorate, Magistrate Cain,” Captain Tate said calmly. “I serve Prince Phane, as do you,” he added pointedly.

Magistrate Cain’s face turned a deeper shade of crimson and he wheeled on Alexander in fury. “You will tell me what I want to know by tomorrow morning or I will give your women to the Lancers for sport.” He kicked Alexander over onto his side and spit on him, then barked at the torturer as he walked out, “Bring me the Thinblade . . . in its scabbard.”

After they left, Alexander closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply enough to replenish his oxygen-starved body but shallowly enough to avoid the stabbing pain of his broken ribs. It was a delicate balancing act that he couldn’t quite get right.

“Are you all right, Alexander?” Isabel asked with a mixture of worry and fury in her voice.

He nodded with his eyes still closed tightly against the rhythmically stabbing pain in his chest that came and went with each breath. “Broken . . . ribs,” he managed through clenched teeth.

“Take shallow breaths,” Anatoly said.

“Alexander,” Lucky said in a tone that got his attention. “Is the blood in your mouth from being struck or did you cough it up?”

Alexander thought about it for a moment. “Hit,” he said quietly.

Lucky sighed in relief. “Good. Your lungs aren’t punctured. Try to rest.”

He heard his friends talking softly as he faded into unconsciousness. It was much later when he woke to urgent whispers. He held still for a moment, straining to hear what was happening around him. It was dark, but with his all around sight, he could make out the silhouettes of his friends still chained to their chairs. He pushed his magical vision through the door and saw Jack kneeling just outside holding perfectly still.

Another voice whispered something to Jack but it was muffled by the door. Alexander held his breath and waited.

He heard Chloe in his mind, “We’ve come to save you, My Love.”

Then the door slowly and carefully opened. Jack slipped inside and went to Alexander. Somehow he had the key to his shackles and collar. It was all Alexander could do to keep from crying out when the irons came off; the skin beneath had been rubbed raw. Jack carefully and gently unbound Alexander and helped him get free of his tipped-over chair.

He gratefully eased himself down onto the sticky blood coating the floor and focused on his breathing. A moment later, Isabel was at his side. He could feel the warmth of her tears as she silently cried for his pain. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Abigail came next. She put her hand on his head and whispered to him. “It’s almost over. You’ll be able to rest soon.”

The trip out of the dungeon was a blur. Anatoly and Lucky carried him through dark corridors, following behind a group of men that Alexander didn’t know. Chloe was there in his mind the whole way offering reassurances and the simple solace of her unconditional love.

Chapter 34

He woke the next morning on a cot. His ribs felt much better though they were still sore. Isabel was in a chair beside him with Chloe sitting cross-legged on one of her knees. He opened his eyes and looked up at them both with a smile that turned into a grimace.

“Where are we?”

Chloe flitted up to hover over his face and look intently into his eyes with worry and relief while Isabel sat forward and gently took his hand.

“We’re still in Kai’Gorn. It seems Jack is well connected even here. How are you feeling?”

He tested his ribs with a deep breath and winced at the tightness and pain. “I’ve been better, but I guess I shouldn’t complain, all things considered.”

“Lucky says you’ll be sore for a few days, but your ribs should be just about mended. Jack was able to get our stuff back, except for the Thinblade, so Lucky gave you a healing potion and put some salve on you before he left you to rest.”

He looked up at her and saw she was wearing her animal charm necklace. Before he could ask his next question, Abigail came into the room. She sat down next to Isabel and gently put her hand on his knee.

“Be more careful,” she said with a sad smile.

A moment later, Anatoly, Lucky, and Jack came in to see him.

Anatoly looked down at his charge and nodded his approval. “You handled that better than most.”

Lucky pulled up a chair on the other side of Isabel and sat down to examine Alexander’s wounds. When he probed his ribs, Alexander gasped slightly.

Lucky said, “After you have some food and water, I have some more healing draught for you and then you should sleep until tomorrow morning. I suspect you’ll be nearly mended by then.”