When he opened the top file, a pop sounded. The ever-present weight of magic around him disappeared. A single small piece of paper had been tucked inside. It read, Gotcha.
Valek laughed. Owen had set a booby trap for him. There was a null shield around him, which would have effectively trapped him here until they arrived to collect him. Nice. He tested the boundaries of the shield. It circled the table, allowing him some room to move, but not much. He wondered how long it would be before they arrived. Just in case there were other booby traps in the apartment, Valek stayed close to the table. If he set off another one, Owen would think someone else was here. Playing the part of ambushed victim, Valek sat on the table and waited.
They took their sweet time. Probably to rub it in. Fine. Valek’s assassin training included patience.
The rasp of a key in the lock roused Valek from a light doze. He pulled his daggers. As soon as the door swung wide, he threw his knife. It thunked into a wooden shield. They’d come prepared. He waited for a clean shot, but as the shielded man advanced, Valek spotted Tyen behind him. To keep up appearances, he tried to hit Tyen with his second throw. But it veered off course as Tyen’s magic deflected the blade. The darts Valek had lined up along the table flew off with a single gesture from Tyen.
“Do you have anything else?” Tyen asked with a bored tone.
Valek gave him his cold killer gaze. He spread his arms wide. “Why don’t you check my pockets?”
“Cute. Boys.” Tyen stepped aside as four thugs fanned to the sides.
They held a net. Ah. He’d wondered how they would contain him without Owen to adjust the null shield. He assumed a null shield had been woven into the rope. Once the net was around him, it would allow them to move him without a struggle. Not about to make this easy for anyone, Valek circled behind the table, keeping it between him and the advancing men. All he could do with only a small space to maneuver.
A needle of pain pricked his neck. Focused on the thugs, Valek hadn’t kept an eye on Tyen.
The magician shrugged. “You were screwed either way.”
True. Valek pulled the dart from his skin. A heaviness flowed through his body, pressing him toward the ground. His arms felt as if they’d turned to stone. The thugs threw the net over him, and the weight of the ropes knocked him down as the sleeping potion knocked him out.
* * *
Dry-mouthed and with a killer headache, Valek woke in one of the cells in the dungeon underneath the castle. Lying on a pallet covered with vile-smelling straw, he rubbed his forehead as he took stock of his situation. No magic surrounded him. Valek concentrated, sensing that the shield had been woven around all the bars of his cell.
His uniform had been replaced with a standard-issue jumpsuit. A faint glow of lantern light flickered on the damp stone outside the bars. He wasn’t in one of the deeper levels, which meant he’d probably get visitors. He was alone in his cell for the moment, but multiple forms occupied the cells next to him. When he pushed to a sitting position, the others stood and shuffled close to the bars separating them. Valek recognized all of them—his agents.
“Are you okay?” Adrik asked. Faded purple bruises marked the man’s face.
“Yes,” Valek’s voice rasped. There wasn’t any water in the cell.
A shuffle sounded, and then Qamra’s hand appeared between the bars. She held a metal cup of water. Valek took the water and downed it, despite the unidentifiable bits floating on the surface.
“Thanks,” he said. He scanned the people. A few had cuts and bruises in varying stages of healing. Most were grim-faced, but a couple smiled in anticipation. “Report.”
Adrik gestured. “We refused to follow orders and are here awaiting execution. They plan to...burn us alive...during the fire festival.” His voice hitched.
Valek didn’t blame him. Burning someone to death was cruel and horrific. “The Commander prefers hangings.”
“Well, we all know he’s not making the decisions anymore. That magician thought fire was a more fitting execution.”
“And my other agents?”
“Are following the Commander’s orders.” He pointed to his ear, then signaled. We have a friend in high places.
Advisor Maren?
Yes.
Smart, but dangerous. If Owen and the Commander discovered she was only pretending to be loyal, they’d milk her for information before killing her.
We’re hoping you have a brilliant plan, Adrik motioned.
He wasn’t sure of its brilliance. And he couldn’t tell them, either. If a magician read their thoughts, Valek’s plan had no chance. No, sorry, I don’t.
His agents reacted with dismay. Worried, strained expressions replaced the smiles. He hated lying to them, but he hoped they’d forgive him later, once they’d managed to escape.
“That magician, Owen, did something to your bars with his magic,” Adrik said, then signed, He’s under the impression that will keep you contained.
“Then I’m stuck here like the rest of you,” Valek said in a defeated tone.
Really? Adrik gestured, still hopeful.
Really.
The mood turned downright ugly.
Valek’s expected visitors arrived a few hours later. Owen, Tyen and Maren stood on the opposite side of the bars. The Commander was smart enough to avoid endangering himself by entering the dungeon. The Commander also wasn’t the type to gloat—unlike Owen, who looked mighty pleased with himself. Maren kept her expression neutral, though, even when she met his gaze. Standing, Valek moved closer to the door and sized up the enemy. A short sword hung from Owen’s waist. Tyen had Valek’s daggers tucked into his belt—a nice little dig at besting Valek. Maren was unarmed, as far as Valek could tell, which said quite a bit. Owen might not fully trust her yet.
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist returning to Ixia,” Owen said. “Did you like my trap at your safe house?”
Valek considered keeping quiet, but the man had an ego that Valek planned to manipulate. “It was clever.”
Owen preened. “I’ve been two steps ahead of you this entire time. In fact, I’m quite happy that your resistance is going to use those storm orbs on the garrisons. It’ll help me tremendously.”
Valek acted surprised, but it just confirmed what Campbell had told him about the attack from the rear.
“No sarcastic comeback?” Owen asked.
Now was the time for silence.
“I guess you’ve realized you’re out of luck and options. You’re up first for execution.”
“Is it scheduled for tomorrow?” Valek asked.
“No. You’ll be going up in flames as part of the grand opening ceremonies for the fire festival. It’ll be quite the show.”
“Too bad I’m going to miss it,” Valek said.
Owen tapped the bars with his finger. “A null shield will be around you at all times. And I control that shield. Right now, it’s as big as your cell. But all I have to do...” Owen held his hands wide and then brought them slowly together.
Valek stared at the magician, but he kept his senses open to determine the exact location of the shield. If he didn’t react properly, it was the end of the road. Owen’s lips quirked just a bit as the shield closed around his body. Valek stiffened, pretending his arms were pinned to his sides. A glint of cruelty shone in Owen’s eyes, and Valek held his breath as if his lungs were being squeezed. Valek’s gaze promised pain and death, but Owen merely laughed at Valek as he held the shield for a very long minute before spreading his hands apart again. Valek sucked in deep breaths, trying not to gasp, which just amused Owen even more. Good.
“Face it, Valek. You can’t escape,” Owen said.
“I’ve heard that before. And it wasn’t true then, either.”
“Is that so?” Owen jerked the door to Valek’s ce
ll open. “It’s not even locked. Go on, then. Escape.”
Unbelievable. Owen had just given him an unexpected gift. Valek strode up to the opening but jerked to a stop just shy of breaking the threshold. While Owen and Tyen delighted in the action, Valek signaled Maren. If she wasn’t on board, Valek was done. Maren, however, didn’t react at all.
“You’re a relic,” Owen said. “Your weakness is well known, and any magician who can erect a null shield can beat you. Considering your immunity served you so well all these years, it’s ironic, isn’t it?”
Valek dropped his shoulders a bit. “I’m well aware of the irony.”
“Good. You have lots to think about before I return to escort you to the pyre.”
Owen turned to leave.
“I do have one question,” Valek said.
The magician paused. “Yes?”
“Any last words?” Valek moved. He stepped through the door, grabbed Owen’s short sword and stabbed it deep into the man’s stomach. Hot blood gushed over his hands, adding to the satisfaction of seeing the shocked expression on Owen’s face.
Maren had a knife on Tyen, but she yelled as the man’s magic slammed her into a wall. She crumpled to the ground in a heap as the weapon clattered to the floor. Tyen gestured, and the knife flew at Valek.
Valek dodged the blade, but soon both daggers were sailing through the air and there wasn’t enough room to maneuver. He put his back against the wall and waited to grab the weapons when they came close, risking a nasty slice. However, once Tyen caught on to his plan, the man just pinned Valek in place with his magic. Shit.
Pulling power, Valek projected into Tyen’s mind. A strong barrier prevented Valek from getting inside.
Tyen stared at him. “Never thought you’d stoop to using blood magic, but that’s the only way to explain your magic.”
Valek didn’t bother to correct him.
“You can’t be as strong or as skilled as I am.” Tyen spun the knives in the air until their tips aimed at Valek’s throat.
“If you stop now, I’ll let you live,” Valek said.
“I’m a dead man regardless. You know that. Least I can do is take you with me.” The blades shot toward Valek.
Desperate, Valek yanked a big chunk of magic. With no time to knit a null shield, he shaped it into a spear and drove it into Tyen’s mental barrier with all his strength. It punched a hole right though, flooding Tyen’s mind with Valek’s magic.
Stop! Valek commanded. Sleep!
The man and knives dropped to the ground. Valek peeled away from the wall. The dungeon reeled under his feet as his muscles turned to goo. Collapsing to his knees, Valek scraped his remaining energy together to fumble underneath the jumpsuit. He clawed the flesh-colored putty away from a set of lock picks. He managed to toss them to Adrik before the world spun around him, sending him into a whirlwind of blackness.
* * *
Valek woke up in the infirmary. His wrists were cuffed to the metal bars of the bed’s headboard, and his ankles were cuffed to the footboard. He would have laughed at how utterly ridiculous it was to secure him, but he didn’t have the strength to even produce a sound. At least he wasn’t in the dungeon. Small mercies. The next time he woke, Medic Mommy tsked over him. Every single muscle in his body ached, and just the thought of moving sent him back into oblivion.
The third time he roused, he wondered if this was how a newborn felt—unable to do anything but suck liquids. He stopped counting after that. His moments of wakefulness blurred together. Maren’s visit eased his worries for her. She reported that both Tyen and Owen were dead. He wished to know how Tyen had died, but that required too much effort.
Instead, he asked, “Rika?” in a whisper.
Maren frowned. “You need to rest. As near as the medic can tell, you’re suffering from a complete, full-body exhaustion.” She stood to leave. “Was all that about the null shield just a ruse this entire time? If so, it was a pretty damn good one.”
So why did she act so unhappy? Was she upset to be left behind when everyone else had gone to Sitia?
Summoning the strength to talk, he said, “No.”
She huffed as if she didn’t believe him, then strode from the room without answering his question about Rika. Maren didn’t return, and over the next few days, Valek regained some of his vigor. Enough so that he longed to sit up and move around, but Medic Mommy also dodged his questions about why he’d been secured.
When he woke next, the Commander stood at the foot of his bed.
“Interesting scar,” he said, pointing to Valek’s bare chest.
The blanket only covered the bottom half of him. He would worry, but the altered scar was the least of his problems at the moment.
“A wedding present for Yelena,” Valek said.
“Ah, yes. I heard about that. And you’ve a baby on the way, too. Congratulations.”
Nice words, but the tone was flat and...dangerous. “Thank you.”
The Commander pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down. “I should thank you for killing that bastard, Owen.”
“Are you—”
“Yes. I’m in full control.” Fury blazed in his gaze for a moment. “Just when I start thinking that magicians aren’t all corrupt and power-hungry, along comes proof that I’m right not to trust them.”
“You agreed to work with Owen,” Valek said. “If you’d executed—”
“I made a mistake,” the Commander snapped. “And I paid for it.” He smoothed an invisible wrinkle from his pant leg. “You saved me yet again. I should thank you for that, as well.”
Should didn’t mean he would. Valek rattled the cuffs. “Not the best way to express your gratitude.”
“You’re a traitor, Valek. You’re helping Sitia, and you were a magician.” He spat the word as if it tasted vile in his mouth.
But it wasn’t the m-word that snagged Valek’s attention. Were. He reached for the power blanket. Nothing. Exhaustion or Harman sap? Did it matter?
Yes, it did. The answer surprised him.
“How long did you hide it from me?” the Commander asked.
“I didn’t hide it. It happened on my return trip from the coast.” He explained what had occurred by Vincent’s grave. “All those who said my immunity to magic was a form of magic were right. No one was more astonished than I.”
The Commander showed no emotion. “You still should have reported back to me.”
“You were under Owen’s influence, and I’m well aware of your views. It would have been a death sentence.” The conversation had drained his energy. Valek wouldn’t last much longer. “My corps?”
“Pardoned.”
That was a relief. “Am I still first in line to be barbequed?”
A faint smile. “Hanged.”
“Much better.” And he meant it.
“The invasion of Sitia will continue as scheduled.”
Valek closed his eyes as a wave of crushing dismay swept through him. Even though he’d killed Owen, he’d failed to stop the war.
“Magicians need to be neutralized,” the Commander said. “The Sitian Council has proven to be ineffective at keeping them in check. It won’t be a bloodbath, Valek. You know that’s not my style. The Sitian people will be well taken care of, just like the Ixian people.”
He wished it was that easy. Valek opened his eyes and met the Commander’s gaze. “It’ll be impossible to target all the magicians.”
“A few will slip through the cracks,” he agreed. “But what I find very telling is that you didn’t ask me how we planned to neutralize the magicians.”
If he’d had more energy, Valek would have cursed.
“The Sitians know we have the Harman sap,” the Commander said, more to himself than Valek. “That’ll complicate things, but I’m co
nfident once we target enough magicians, it will be easier to get them all. At least Owen delivered on his promise to produce an effective substance. He never fully trusted me, so he kept the details secret until recently. I suspect he’d just managed to get it to work.” His cold smile failed to soften his expression. “Excellent timing for me.”
Valek ignored the jab. “What about Rika?”
“She’s been in Sitia, helping the Cartel.”
Ah, that explained those illusion cloaks.
“Don’t worry. She’s on my list to be neutralized by the Harman sap,” the Commander added. “You were the first, by the way.”
“I’m honored.”
A flash of amusement crossed his face before the Commander turned somber. “I’ve missed our conversations.” He stood to leave. “I’m going to need a new assassin and security chief. Do you have any recommendations?”
“Onora.”
Valek had managed to shock the Commander. He gaped at Valek, speechless. First. Time. Ever.
“I forced her to work for the resistance,” Valek said. “She’s not a traitor.”
“I see.”
And the Commander did—he was smart that way. A pang of grief rolled through Valek. Too bad he would have to assassinate the Commander.
27
LEIF
Leif opened his senses and waited for Master Magician Irys Jewelrose to contact him. His team hid in the woods near the back wall of the Featherstone garrison. He reached for Mara’s hand and squeezed, reassuring her. The weak moonlight lit her face with a soft white glow. Strain etched lines of worry in her forehead, but if he’d suggested she remain at the inn, where it was safe, Mara would have growled at him.
The growling was new. And while he longed for the sweet woman he married, Valek’s comments repeated in his mind. Trust. And perhaps with time, some of the sweetness would return.