The Dragon King (The Alaris Chronicles Book 3) Page 17

  Jaimon and Alli stood up, both seeming small compared to the Wolf’s stature and anger.

  “Sir, Alli didn’t mean anything by it,” Jaimon said, trying to smooth things over. “We are just concerned for the king’s health.”

  Alli opened her mouth to retort, but Jaimon shook his head at her, and she relinquished her words—this time.

  The Wolf paced a few steps toward the window, then back again. His anger seemed to subside before he spoke again. “Your timing is not good here. The kings of Solshi are arriving today.”

  Alli had to be bold now. She had to discover whom to trust. “We would like to present ourselves to the king, then. As a dragon rider and an official representative of the Citadel of Alaris.”

  The Wolf took a few more paces before he answered, “He has been spending a lot of time with the Sanctuary commander.”

  “Great,” Alli said. “Then we will see them both—we weren’t able to find the commander available at the Sanctuary.”

  “Now?” the Wolf asked.

  Jaimon looked nervously at Alli.

  She just shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and then smiled sweetly. “If that works best for your schedule, sir. You must have trade meetings to attend to.”

  His anger seemed to recede, and he barked out a laugh. “My, my. Your tongue is as sharp as your sword.”

  Alli just smiled and cocked her head to her side. “You have no idea of all the powers at my disposal, Minister.” She felt a slight probing of her mind once again. But, like a fly before a giant swatter, it was batted away with the use of her magic.

  The Wolf glared at her harshly for a brief moment, without betraying any of his thoughts, then motioned the two of them to the door. “I am sure the Sanctuary commander will be overjoyed to meet you. Let’s go and see my father. Maybe they are together.”

  Walking behind the Wolf into the wide hallway, Jaimon and Alli were soon joined by half a dozen guards at their backs.

  Jaimon leaned over and whispered, “We are getting closer to him, Alli.”

  “Closer?” she whispered back.

  “To the Chameleon,” Jaimon said quietly, with a nod of his head in the direction they would be walking.

  Alli’s hands went to both of her swords, and she put up all the barriers around her mind that she knew of. “Ready your dragon, Dragon Rider,” she whispered. “This may get exciting for us.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Once the Wolf, heir to the throne of Quentis, had led Alli and Jaimon down a multitude of hallways and up two flights of stairs, they arrived at an ancient double door. Alli tried not to be distracted by the opulence of the castle and the views of the bay from the windows this high up. She wiped sweat from her forehead. The afternoon humidity was getting worse. Breathing in deeply, she tasted salt in the air.

  “I’ll be back in a moment, and I will arrange the meeting.” The Wolf stepped inside the room.

  Turning to Jaimon once the Wolf was gone, Alli noticed the young man shaking. By putting a hand on his arm, she tried to assure him that it would be all right.

  “Is he here?” Alli asked.

  Jaimon cocked his head to the side. “He is close. He could be in the room. It’s so hard to tell sometimes. I don’t know how accurate I can be.” He hung his head down low. “I would feel better if Cholena were here.”

  “How far away is she?” Alli’s attention was on full alert.

  “Not far. Just north of the city,” Jaimon answered. “But even a few minutes away could make a difference.” He brought out one of the artifacts and held it in his hand.

  “Do you think they work?” Alli moved closer to look at what Jaimon held. It was a small crystal carving of a dragon—its wings held out in flight.

  Jaimon shook his head. “I don’t know, but at least it’s something to hold on to. I’m not gifted like you are.”

  “Don’t worry.” Alli smiled and flipped her hair to the side of her face. “We just need to find out where the troublemaker is.”

  “Do you trust the Wolf?” Jaimon asked, changing the subject.

  Alli laughed. “I don’t trust many people, Jaimon. That’s why I am still alive.” She paused and thought for a moment. “It’s not that I distrust him, I just think he is hiding something.”

  Before anything more could be said, the door opened and, instead of the Wolf, a servant stepped out, closing the door behind himself.

  “The Wolf will be detained for a while.” The servant’s face was passive. “I will escort you to a room where you may have some refreshments and rest.” He motioned for them to follow.

  “We don’t need to rest,” Alli informed him.

  The servant stopped with a jerk, obviously not expecting resistance.

  “We have things to do,” Alli said. “We would like to see the king, or we will leave and come back another time.”

  “You cannot leave,” the servant stated. “That would not do.”

  As three soldiers came toward them from the other end of the hallway, Alli’s hand went once again to her sword hilt. They would be easy for her to handle.

  “We must insist you remain in the castle,” the servant said, his expression turning harder.

  The man’s stance suddenly didn’t look like a servant’s anymore, and Alli wondered who he really was. The three soldiers stood behind him and glared at Alli and Jaimon.

  “Something is going on here,” Alli said. Then, with viper-like speed, Alli reached for the door handle and began to push it open. But, before she could, two of the soldiers grabbed her arms.

  Jaimon took a step back in surprise.

  Alli kicked the chin of one of the guards, knocking him off balance and freeing one of her arms. The third guard stepped forward but found the point of Alli’s sword at his throat.

  “Back off,” Alli sneered at all of them. Jaimon had moved next to her and had his own sword now pointed at one of the other guards.

  Then Alli noticed that the servant wasn’t in front of them anymore. From behind, she felt two strong arms grab her arms and twist them back behind her. Before she could react, something cold and metal was snapped onto her wrists and all her power drained away—both physically and magically.

  “What did you do?” she tried to scream, but her voice only came out as a whisper. She sank to her knees, unable to stand.

  To Jaimon’s credit, he reacted with his newly trained instincts as he jumped out in front of Alli—but not before almost tripping over her. He put his hands on her shoulder, to steady himself and then, with a quick move to the side, sliced one of the guards’ arms, drawing a line of blood and a loud scream from the man.

  Another guard came forward, but Jaimon parried his sword also and almost had him, when, from behind, the third guard knocked Jaimon on the head. Jaimon dropped the sword, and then the young dragon rider slumped to the floor, unconscious, next to Alli.

  She struggled with the contraption on her wrists but soon found her energy waning substantially. The man who had played the servant grabbed her roughly and pulled her up from the floor.

  “Take her to the dungeon,” he said and then pushed Alli into one of the guards that wasn’t hurt. “I will take the dragon rider with me. The commander will want to see him first.”

  “No! Jaimon!” Alli screamed. “Jaimon, wake up!”

  But Jaimon stayed slumped on the floor as the guard lifted Alli up to her feet.

  “Get going!” the rough guard spat at her. “You can walk.”

  She tried to walk, but she felt like she had been drugged. So the guard had to practically drag her down a hall to the top of some back stairs, which were probably used by the servants.

  As they went down the stairs, the only thing that kept Alli going forward was the thought that if she fell, it was a long way down—and most likely would be fatal. The effort to get down even one level was painful and tiring.

  “I need to rest,” she said, pleading. She hated doing this, but she was just so weak. Once again, she tried to
reach out for her powers. Her magic was there, close by, but she couldn’t quite get it to obey her wishes.

  “Get up!” the guard said as he dragged her back to her feet.

  Without thinking, Alli’s instincts took over, and she bashed her forehead into the guard’s nose, hearing a crunching sound. Noticing that and the smell of blood in the air, she didn’t wait any longer to try and kick out at him. But, instead, she fell back against the stone stairway.

  The guard stood above Alli and glared at her, his hand over his nose. Blood dripped through his fingers. Then he kicked her hard in the side, and she grunted and tried to roll away, but her senses felt dulled, and her body didn’t respond.

  “You barbarian witch!” the guard roared as he kicked her again.

  Alli tried to roll into a ball, to protect herself. “I’m not a barbarian,” she grunted.

  The guard laughed wildly. “Stuck behind that barrier for one hundred and fifty years. You are a backward, hopeless people. It is time for Quentis to rule the lands, and we won’t let you little girls from Alaris get in our way.”

  From down the stairwell, Alli heard voices. Maybe someone would help her. She screamed as loud as she could, but it wasn’t very loud. However, soon two male servants came up the stairs. They stopped short and stared at the scene. Blood was dripping down the guard’s face, and Alli was trying to stand up. A look of horror flashed across their faces, and they began to back away.

  “You two will help me,” the guard said, then grabbed a cloth from one of the servants and held it to his bleeding nose.

  “But…but…” one of the servants stammered. “We are needed upstairs.”

  “You are needed here now.” The guard was large and angry and brooked no argument from the two servants. “Now, lift this assassin up, and follow me to the dungeons.”

  “Assassin?” Alli croaked. “You are the one trying to kill me.”

  “Shut your mouth, Witch,” the guard said as he slammed his fist into the side of her jaw.

  Alli did all she could not to cry out in agony.

  The two servants looked ready to bolt but did as the guard had ordered. Carrying Alli down two more flights of stairs, they went into the underground floors of the castle. Soon they came out of the stairwell and walked along another hallway. The rock walls here looked more roughly hewn in the dim light. A solid wooden door stood at the other end.

  The guard knocked, and they all waited.

  Alli was trying to keep from blacking out as she looked around and gathered as much information as she could. The door opened, and another guard met them, this one wearing chain mail and carrying a sword on one hip and a hammer on the other.

  “This traitor is to be imprisoned,” her guard said.

  The new guard glanced down at the manacles on Alli’s wrists and smiled. “I have just the cell for her.”

  The servants continued to carry her forward, clearly not wanting to be there. The scents of blood, human waste, and rot made Alli gag, but she stopped short of vomiting. A dozen cells, with thick metal bars, filled each side of the walkway. Two other guards were stationed there. The door guard ordered the two servants to take Alli to the end of the row of cells. Opening a door, the two servants laid her on the ground, and one backed away.

  Before leaving her, the other servant leaned over and whispered, “Hail the Dragon” so softly that Alli didn’t know if she had actually heard it.

  Alli almost laughed. The fanatical Followers of the Dragon were here too. They knew who she was. Maybe there was some hope after all.

  Her pain was almost unbearable. She closed her eyes and heard the barred metal door close behind her. Receding footsteps echoed down the walkway as the guards and servants all walked away.

  Lying motionless for who knows how long, Alli tried to think of what to do next. Her entire body ached, and the manacles were cutting into her wrists. Rolling onto her back, Alli tried to sit up. Once she did, she scooted backward, toward the closest side of her cell. She bumped into the bars but felt something else behind them. She brought her head up and tried to look behind herself. It was difficult, with her wrists still chained behind her back.

  When she did look behind herself, she gasped. Standing in the next cell was a grimy man with long, dirty hair and an unshaven face.

  He leaned down closer to her, his head in line with hers. Pushing his face as far as he could between the bars, he said, “Hello, Wizard!” His voice was deep and raspy, as if he hadn’t spoken in a while.

  His foul breath almost made Alli gag again. And she tried to breathe through her mouth as she scooted away from the bars and glared back at the man. “How do you know I’m a wizard?” she finally asked.

  A deep laugh ensued, followed by a series of coughs. “Who else do they put these manacles on?” he asked. He held out his arms, and she noticed, for the first time, that his wrists were also manacled. Although, his were held in front of himself, rather than behind his back, like hers.

  “How long have you been in here?” Alli asked. She didn’t want to end up looking like him. The man appeared to be half crazy, and his clothes hung loosely over his thinning frame.

  “How long? How long?” the man asked. “A day is too long, in this place.” He then paced away from the bars and back again. “How long can you survive is the better question.”

  Alli gasped. She could usually hold her own, but, without the use of her hands or her magic… Panic began to rise inside of her. She needed help to get away, and this man might be her only hope. She looked him up and down and wondered what he had done to get such harsh treatment. Probably some low level wizard found pilfering goods or cheating at cards.

  Pushing herself back up, onto her feet, she walked closer to the bars. She tried to show more confidence than she felt as she faced the man in front of her.

  “Who are you?” Alli asked.

  “Ah, that is the question, isn’t it?” The man laughed again. “Your mind must be wondering what petty crime afforded me these luxurious accommodations.” He proceeded to push his manacled hands through the bars and toward her right shoulder. “You are probably thinking that you must be stronger than some pathetic man in the cell next to yours, right?”

  She wanted to back away, but she steeled her mind to not be intimidated by the filthy man. His dark brown eyes bore into hers, and she couldn’t look away. There was power behind his gaze, a power that was trapped as much as her own power was. Was she mistaken in her earlier assessment of his strength and crimes?

  She still couldn’t look away as he said, “It’s nice to see I still have a little power left.” His voice was growing stronger the more he used it.

  Alli might not be able to use her power, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have her own steel will inside of herself still. She reached inside and stilled her fear, asking him the same question one more time.

  “Who are you?”

  The man put his face up to the bars and said, “I am the highly esteemed and most powerful commander of the Sanctuary of Quentis. I am Commander Tobias Bruel.” With that, he pulled his hands away from the bars, stepped back, and gave a flourishing bow.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Breelyn stood on a hill just west of the capital city Raleez. After several days of recruiting—or rather, intimidating—the group at the bottom of the hill, it was now growing big enough to be considered an army. A small one—but an army nonetheless.

  Turning to a young servant next to her, Breelyn said harshly, “Tell the captains to meet me in the command tent as soon as possible.”

  The servant was barely thirteen, but she was fast and did Breelyn’s bidding. She sprinted down the hill to find Breelyn’s captains—or, were they General Trevis’s captains? Did it matter anymore? They feared Breelyn now as much as they feared him.

  Standing still and taking in her surroundings, Breelyn rung her hands tightly. Looking down at them, she noticed the black leather bands around her wrists. The General had given them to her. Running o
ne hand over the band on the opposite wrist, she felt power rise up within her once again. Closing her eyes, Breelyn breathed in deeply and let the black power wash over her, calming her down. At the very edges of this power, a spark tried to push its way in, but Breelyn pushed it back out.

  The dragon!

  For the first few days after Breelyn’s agreement with the General, Miriel had tried to visit—had tried to break through the new barriers in her mind—but Breelyn had pushed her out. It was for Miriel’s own protection. A part of Breelyn knew that what she was doing now was wrong, and she didn’t want harm to come to her dragon, so she had blocked Miriel out and had tried to will her away. With the dragon obviously farther away from the area now, it was easier not to think about what she had done.

  The young servant returned and bowed to Breelyn. “They will meet you momentarily, Mistress. Would you like an escort to the tent?”

  Breelyn knew, that behind her back, they called her Mistress of the Dark, but she felt no concern. She had sold her soul for a reason: to protect her homeland and its king. Both of which she probably would never see again.

  Steeling her nerves, Breelyn shook her head at the servant. “I can manage myself.”

  Lifting up the hem of her black dress, Breelyn walked down the hill, toward the command tent. On the way, the ragtag soldiers—men and women—bowed to Breelyn while averting their eyes from her scrutiny. She walked with her head held high and paid them no attention. She could crush them all with a moment’s thought.

  At the tent door, two servants held the flaps open for her and the captains. Upon entering, she motioned them all to sit. Soft pillows had been arranged around the edges of the spacious tent. Then she walked around the tent, with long strides, staring each one of the five captains in the eye. Finally, she returned to her starting point and sat down with them.

  “How is training going?” Breelyn asked.

  No one spoke. They seemed to be doing anything they could not to look directly at her.

  Her anger growing, Breelyn slapped her hand on the ground and sent tendrils of black smoke into the air, heading toward one of the men. At seeing that, he looked up at her and tried to back away. But the tendrils wrapped themselves around his throat, and choking sounds ensued.