The Squire Read online

  Before Michael could tell her about the next step someone knocked on the door. A moment later it opened and a woman in lightcaster robes who Rain didn’t know poked her head in. “There’s trouble; we’re needed in the war room, now.”

  Rain and Michael got to their feet and followed the woman through the halls to the war room. When they arrived the king, queen, and several generals, recognizable by the medals gleaming on their chests, stood around the map discussing something. Everyone looked their way when they entered. Michael and the lightcaster bowed to the royal couple.

  They found empty spaces around the map and Tahlia said, “Rain, I’d hoped you’d come along with Michael. We received a message from Col. The team recovered the soul box, but an army of beastmen now stands between them and the border. We’re trying to devise a plan to rescue them.”

  “Is he okay?”

  Tahlia smiled that mysterious smile Rain had begun to hate. “The team lost five rangers, but Col is fine.”

  * * *

  Col stood at the top of a little ridge and stared at the force assembled to block them from entering Celestia. Beastmen of all types stood three deep in a battle line. He tried to count them then gave up; they shifted around too much for an accurate count.

  “There must be a couple thousand.” Manes stood beside him, bleeding from one of the many wounds he’d picked up over half a dozen smaller fights.

  “At least. How, exactly, do we plan to get past them?”

  “Sneaking is out of the question.” Col glanced over at the older man, surprised he was even capable of a joke. “And twenty-five soldiers aren’t enough to punch through.”

  “Maybe we can just sit here and wait for them to go home,” Col said.

  “That doesn’t seem likely.”

  Manes didn’t have a chance to offer another suggestion before the familiar tingle from his orb drew Col’s attention and dug it out. Maybe Tahlia would have an idea that had a chance of success. He focused on the orb and Tahlia’s voice appeared in his mind. “Col, we’ve assembled a force to attack the beastmen blocking your way. We’ll open a portal at noon, when our lightcasters are at their strongest. Be ready to run as soon as they fully engage. Once you’ve crossed the border our troops will pull back. Good luck and please be careful.”

  Col turned to Manes. “It appears the queen has come up with a more practical plan.”

  Col spelled it out and when he finished Manes said, “So we’re supposed to do an end run around the army when they’re distracted? It can’t possibly be that easy.”

  “If you’ve got a better plan I’d be happy to pass it along for you, otherwise we should get everyone ready.”

  Manes slid down the ridge toward where Alana and the soldiers waited, with Col right behind. Alana stood up, her black hair matted by sweat to the side of her face. “How bad does it look?”

  “Bad enough,” Col said. He relayed the queen’s plan. “Noon isn’t that far off. We should get ready.”

  Col didn’t understand why, but when you were waiting for something, especially the start of a battle, time seemed to drag. The two hours they waited for noon seemed like half a day. At last Alana perked up. “I sense Light magic gathering. The portal will open soon.”

  “Finally,” Manes muttered, no doubt experiencing the same anxiety as Col. They crept around the ridge so they could see the edge of the beastmen’s line. They watched, tense, for a couple of minutes before a bright light burst into existence. A minute later the sound of steel on steel rang out followed by screams. “Not yet.”

  Col ground his teeth. Why didn’t the stupid monsters move? Minutes dragged by, but the beastmen didn’t do more than stir in place. Col blinked and a light exploded amongst the beastmen, scattering them like toys.

  “That was a Light blast,” Alana said. “It felt like Michael, or one of the other senior casters. We should go before they recover.”

  No one needed any extra coaxing. Col slung the pole over his shoulder and they ran for it. The border lay at the bottom of a shallow slope across a brook. With the magic of his ring Col saw the hidden runes that marked the border of Celestia’s ward. So many beastmen in the area must have woken them up. The little group ran past dead and dying beastmen. A dying saberfang reached out with a clawed hand to try to stop them so he bumped it with the cage. The monster disintegrated and they ran on.

  They reached the slope and Col had to pick his way down with one hand on the pole and the other helping him balance. Halfway down the slope Col started to believe they’d make it. That turned out to be a mistake. A black disk appeared in front of the brook a few hundred yards ahead and a man stepped through.

  Col shook his head. What was a human doing fighting with beastmen? The stranger raised his hand and black flames swirled to life. A ball of black flames shot toward the edge of the group. Col ran toward it, hoping the soul box could disrupt the magic.

  He didn’t make it. The explosion knocked him to his knees and sent pieces of several soldiers flying.

  A beam of white light streaked over his head toward Zarrin, for the darkcaster could be no one else. The undead darkcaster batted Alana’s attack away like it bothered him no more than a buzzing fly. Zarrin adjusted his aim and fired another blast. Col swung the pole and got the soul box in the attack’s path in time to disrupt it.

  A hint of a smile creased Zarrin’s lips. He adjusted his aim again and fired.

  The ground shook from the impact and Col fell to his knees again.

  Smart. The darkcaster couldn’t attack them directly so he counted on the aftereffects of his blasts to hurt them.

  Col scrambled to his feet and ran on. He raced at an angle away from Zarrin but still toward the border. Maybe if he got away from the others it would spare them further attacks.

  Dirt flew as Zarrin blasted a crater in his path.

  Col swung around it and kept going, now further off course. The ground shook as he ran.

  A shattered stone gashed his cheek. Col ignored it and ran on.

  He only had a little ways to go. Zarrin blasted a tree into his path. Col leapt over the trunk and kept going.

  A few more steps to the brook, he could make it.

  The next blast was the strongest yet and it sent Col flying. He splashed down in the brook, bruising his knees on the stones under the shallow water.

  The wards glowed a few feet away.

  He crawled toward them.

  At his back a chill, malevolent presence announced the arrival of the darkcaster. Any second he expected to feel a knife plunge into his back.

  Gathering his strength Col lunged across the border, dragging the soul box with him.

  Col rolled to his back. On the far side of the brook Zarrin stood seething, surrounded by an aura of black energy. Col scrambled to his feet a moment before Zarrin took a step toward the border.

  Col blinked. He couldn’t cross the wards, could he?

  Whether he could or not the darkcaster clearly meant to try. The wards glowed so bright Col suspected they were visible to everyone, even those without magical sight.

  Dark power flared and Zarrin took another step. It seemed a good time to put a little more distance between them. Col tried to run, but staggered to a halt, his knee screaming. He must have hurt it worse than he thought when he landed in the brook.

  A glance over his shoulder revealed Zarrin marching with grim determination in his direction. Injured knee or not Col needed to move.

  He limped deeper into Celestia while Zarrin followed behind like a man walking into a powerful wind. If Col had been watching from a distance he might have found the slow-motion chase funny.

  He took another step, hit a divot, and fell to the ground, his knee in agony. He crawled away, dragging the soul box with him. Despite the resistance Zarrin was gaining on him. Col tried to get back to his feet, but his leg gave out. The darkcaster had closed to within a few feet.

  A warm, white light filled the air causing Zarrin to flinch away. When it faded, T
ahlia stood beside Col, white-feathered wings gleaming, eyes burning with white fire. Col had never seen a more beautiful or terrifying sight in his life.

  “Tahlia.”

  She looked down at him and smiled. When her gaze turned toward the darkcaster the smile vanished. The light in her eyes flared, a beam shot from them, and hit Zarrin full in the chest. He flew back across the border and skidded to a stop on the far side of the brook. The darkcaster shot them one final glare then vanished in a swirl of black flames.

  Col closed his eyes, feeling safe for the first time in what seemed a long time. Tahlia knelt beside him. She looked human again, her angelic side hidden. She put her hand on his knee and warmth flowed into him. The pain vanished and he tried to stand.

  She pressed a hand to his chest. “Give it a couple minutes to finish healing.”

  He put his hand over hers. “Thank you. If you hadn’t arrived when you did I wouldn’t have survived.”

  “I didn’t frighten you?”

  The anxiety in her voice surprised him. Col smiled and squeezed her hand. “No. In fact, the wings suit you. It’s a pity you have to hide them.”

  He thought he saw a tear gleam in her eye, but it may have been a trick of the light. She leaned down and kissed him. “Perhaps I’ll show them to you again when we’re alone.”

  Col grinned. Even if the king killed him it would be worth it.

  Chapter Thirty

  Col and Tahlia entered the throne room and found King Jarod, Rain, and Michael waiting for them. Tahlia went first and Col followed, the pole with the soul box balanced on his shoulder. By the Light he’d be glad not to have to lug the damn thing around anymore.

  “Col!” Rain rushed toward him, ignoring Tahlia altogether. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt a little awkward hugging another woman with Tahlia standing right beside him. “It worked, your idea about my power.”

  He tried to remember exactly what he told her and failed. “That’s great. Can I put this thing somewhere?”

  The king chuckled. “Just set the ugly thing on the floor anywhere.”

  Col did as the king said, careful not to get the soul box close to anyone. Everyone gathered around and looked at the box. “So how do we smash it?”

  Tahlia and Michael exchanged a look before Michael said, “Up close it’s considerably more powerful than I expected. I’d thought a circle of lightcasters combining their power would do the trick, but now I’m less certain. I think we’ll need at least two talismans to focus the power with greater precision.”

  Col groaned. “Where do I have to go to fetch your talismans?”

  Tahlia smiled at him and for a moment he thought a frown creased Rain’s lips, but when he looked her way he found her expression neutral. “You don’t need to go anywhere. My dear husband holds one talisman and Rain has the power to summon the second.”

  Rain’s eyes widened. “My family sword? We haven’t gotten to the third phase of my training. I don’t know how to summon the sword.”

  “Calm down,” Michael said. “Summoning the sword is the third and final phase of your training. You need to call the power into your hands like we did in training then imagine you’re holding the sword. Picture the weapon in your mind until it becomes real to you and the magic will do the rest.”

  She looked at Col with fear in her eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this. I haven’t even held a sword.”

  Col grinned. “I can help with that.”

  He drew his sword and offered it to her hilt first. She hesitated then wrapped her hands around the hilt. When he let go the blade clanged on the floor. “Heavier than I thought.”

  “It’s easier to cut people if it’s got some heft. Let me help you.” Col stepped behind Rain, reached around her, and put his hands around hers on the hilt. He guided her through a couple of cross cuts, just to give her an idea of how it balanced. “Okay?”

  “Okay. I’m ready to try it.”

  Col took his sword back and moved to what he hoped was a safe distance. “You can do this.”

  * * *

  Rain felt bereft when Col reclaimed his sword and stepped away. She didn’t know why having him close by made her feel safe, but it did. She put Col out of her mind and focused on the task at hand. First she let her power flow down into her hands. The power came so fast and easily she wanted to shout for joy. Rain set the emotion aside and remembered Col’s sword in her hands, the heft, and the rough texture of the grip. She tried to remember her father carrying the family blade at his side, the golden ball at the end of the hilt, the silver mesh wrapping the grip.

  Come to me. You’re my birthright, come to me now! Something tugged at her and she pulled back. The sword wanted to come to her, but some power held it in place. She pulled again, harder. Come to me!

  Rain woke up on the cold stone of the palace floor. Her head throbbed and she groaned. “Did I succeed?”

  “Welcome back.” She turned her head and found Col sitting on the floor beside her. The family sword rested beside him. He smiled down at her. “Congratulations.”

  She slid around and rested her head on his knee. “I did it. Thank you, for everything.”

  “You’re very welcome, Princess. Are you strong enough to stand?”

  “Yeah.” He got up and offered her a hand. Rain let him pull her to her feet. Everyone looked at her and smiled.

  Michael came over and hugged her. “You were a fine pupil. Well done, Rain.”

  Tahlia said. “We should destroy the soul box as soon as possible.”

  Rain blinked. She’d forgotten for a moment that retrieving the sword was only part of the task at hand. She bent down and picked up her sword. It was lighter than Col’s. Runes glittered on the blade; she’d never noticed them before.

  “What do they say?”

  “Princess?” Col raised an eyebrow. She must have spoken out loud.

  “I wondered what the runes meant.”

  “Be true to your duty lest Darkness walk the land once more,” Tahlia said. “You’re a credit to your bloodline, Rain.”

  Rain ran her finger down the flat of the blade, the characters engraved in the metal rough against her finger. Duty never meant much to her, but she was beginning to understand. “I’m ready.”

  Michael went to one of the other doors out of the throne room and when he returned six people in lightcaster robes followed. They formed a circle around the soul box, leaving two gaps. The king drew his sword, an exact replica of hers save for the device engraved on the pommel, and stepped into one of the gaps. Tahlia stood behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders.

  Rain took a breath and stepped into the second gap. Michael stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Place the tip of your sword on the box.”

  Rain did what he said at the same time King Jarod mirrored her with his sword. When both swords touched the box the six lightcasters raised their hands. A bright white glow filled the room. The blade of her sword blazed with white fire. Lances of energy shot from the casters’ hands and struck the box. Vibrations ran through the grip and into her hands. Rain struggled to hold the tip steady.

  Warmth flowed through her and she knew the power came from Michael. Through her connection to the Light everyone’s determination to shatter the abomination before them reached her. Distantly Col urged her on even as he worried that she was okay. She drew strength from everyone’s effort and poured her will into smashing the box. As she fought she sensed, even more distantly, a cold, dark presence straining to hold the box together.

  Rain clenched her teeth. That monster destroyed her kingdom, enslaved her people, and murdered her parents. No matter what, she wouldn’t let him win this fight. She leaned on the sword, pressing it even harder into the box. Cracks appeared in the flawless surface and an instant later she went flying.

  Strong arms caught her and lowered her to the ground. “Are you okay?” Col asked.

  “Did we do it?”

  He grinned his familiar g
rin. “You sure did. Take a peek.”

  Col helped her turn around and she saw the twisted metal of the cage that had surrounded the soul box, but of the box itself nothing remained. She slumped in his arms. “I hope I don’t have to do that again right away.”

  * * *

  Zarrin paced the courtyard of Finegold Castle and seethed. He had to flee from that bitch! It wasn’t her power that balked him, but rather the wards combined with all the power he expended trying to kill the boy that weakened him enough that she could force him back. If he ever caught her in an even fight he’d rip her wings off.

  A pulse of Light magic made him flinch. Annoyed, he sought the source and found the buried sword pulsing with energy. He studied the magic and after a second recognized the summoning. The princess was trying to reclaim her birthright. Well, he couldn’t have that. Zarrin wrapped chains of Dark power around the blade to lock it in place. The power intensified and before he could reinforce the bindings the chains shattered and the sword vanished.

  Zarrin snarled a curse that would have slain any living thing in the courtyard had there been anyone to slay. Insects, insects threatened his great work, first the boy, then that pitiful excuse for an angel, now the princess. It was an insult to his power.

  He staggered as something assaulted his essence. He knew this was coming, he’d known it since he had to flee without his soul box. A fresh jolt ran through him, not pain so much as the awareness that his very being was under assault. He could do nothing about it, only brace himself for the discomfort and use it to fuel his hate. He’d make them all pay for this affront.

  Despite his best efforts, when the box shattered he fell to his knees. He wouldn’t have thought the loss of such a small fragment of his essence would affect him so much, but it did. A little piece of him was gone, never to return. Worse, he was now vulnerable to destruction. The knowledge that he might cease—die, for lack of a better term—both horrified and thrilled him. For the first time in a very long time he was mortal, like his younger self when he first set out to recover his master’s power and free the Darkness from its eternal prison. It felt right that he should face the end of his mission in the same compromised state he began.