Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Kirdan could not stop himself. He watched as he involuntarily stole the relic from the castle treasury, the old witch standing beside him. The relic responded to the touch of its steward, glowing with soft white light. It was about the size of a loaf of bread, made of a sort of gray crystal. He could see his fingers through its opaque surface, lifting it from its pedestal and placing it into a pack on his hip.

He was conscious, but unable to control his body. The old Chaelestan witch, Seren Tuwil, had put him under a spell after he had been led from the tower. Seren had taken him into the castle, where she commanded him to take her to the relic. He obeyed every word, moving almost naturally. However, he had not blinked, and he could feel his eyes drying out. By the time they were riding away from Aetheris, tears were streaming from his eyes. Zagalis mentioned it to Seren, who nodded.

He could blink and move his eyes voluntarily after that, but still could not control the rest of his body. They rode all day and into the night, not stopping except to water the horses. Kirdan ate the food given him, but it was not much, and it was not willfully. They made it to the Vento Pass by midnight, but pushed onward. Snow still covered the mountains, but workers from Aetheris and Premoi had worked to clear most of the snow on the road. They passed multiple parties of travelers, some grieving over loved ones lost in the snowy pass. Kirdan wanted to reach out to his people and comfort them, but could not. He wore a hood, keeping his face hidden from passerby.

The horses carried them much faster than walking, bringing the party into Premoi in three days from Aetheris. The weather warmed, turning back into Spring. A couple times Kirdan saw people he recognized pass them on the road, people from the senate or from his travels around the country. He wanted to speak with them, to cast magic, but he could not sing. The collarium was still around his neck, prohibiting speech.

They were a day outside of Premoi, still in the pass, when Kirdan went to fetch water. He knew Seren was controlling him, but that did not keep him from trying anything. As he knelt near a small pool of water, catching the stream falling into it in multiple buckets, he cast his eyes downward. He could see his reflection.

I, as son, would speak with my father, king. Show to him, me, and to me, him, he sang in his mind. An image formed on the water. He could not turn his head, but kept his eyes upon it. It showed the king sitting at his desk, speaking with one of the Egregia. The king noticed the image on the mirror below him and looked down, right into Kirdan's eyes.

There was no sound with this spell, but Kirdan saw his father's lips moving. The prince removed one bucket, taking his head away from the view of the spell, and picked up the last one. He placed it under the stream and cast his eyes again at the pool below him. His father was mouthing more words. He caught a few, one of which meant the world to him right then.

Ashira . . . .

His father continued.

. . . help . . . Egregia . . . ruins . . . .

Kirdan finished filling the bucket and moved away from the pool, catching one last glimpse of his father.

Ivarus and Ashira were an afternoon's ride away, keeping a steady distance between themselves and their quarries. They rode as quickly as they dared on the slippery slopes of the pass. The evening of the second day, Ivarus pulled out a small looking glass from his pack.

“The king gave this to me,” he said, looking into his reflection, “for when he needs to speak with us. I just felt it getting warmer against my back. There must be a message coming through.”

Indeed, it was only a few seconds later that an image appeared in the glass. The king looked out at Ivarus.

“I believe you are going in the correct direction,” the king said, his voice coming from his image. “Kirdan was able to contact me from a pool somewhere in the pass. It seems he did not have control of his actions. He did not cast the full spell, nor did he stay as long as I needed to tell him anything useful.”

“Then what of Corinth?” Ivarus asked.

“He will join you at Mancana Ruins. I have sent word to him to hasten back to the pass. Ivarus,” he said, concern in his voice, “I believe my son is bewitched. The sooner you find him, the sooner we can keep anything bad from happening. We only have a couple more days before disaster strikes. The extraction cannot happen, or Zagalis will have the ability to strip all Camenians of their magic. Only stewards can do this, and he will take over as steward if he takes Kirdan's magic. Not only that, but the process will kill my son.”

Ashira listened from the other side of the glass, realizing for the first time what kind of danger she and Kirdan truly were in.

“Let me speak with Ashira,” said Kaion.

Ivarus handed over the looking glass. Ashira looked into the eyes of the king, concern showing on her face.

“Ashira,” he said, looking at her with tenderness, “you are a brave young woman to do this. I wanted you to be the first to know that, because of the memories you shared, there if finally proof that Kaias Celsis is a traitor. The judges have all seen your memories and watched every detail. Kaias will be put on trial next month. He has been detained until then. Thank you, Ashira, for helping to put an end to his terrorism.”

“You're welcome, your majesty,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I'm glad I was able to help. Your son, Ivarus, and others have showed kindness to me while in this land. I'm glad I was able to give back somehow.”

Ivarus took the looking glass and addressed the king.

“Sir, what of the Egregia? Are they on their way?”

“I sent the last of them out this afternoon,” he responded. “The first few of them should meet up with you in Premoi, the last few in Ceantir.”

Ivarus nodded.

“I will look for their signal, then. Thank you, your majesty.”

It was sundown on the third day that Ashira and Ivarus reached the northern docks of Premoi, which covered a couple kilometers north of the walled-in portion of the city. Their route would take them on the river until they reached Ceantir.

“They will have gotten on the river by now,” he said, leading her to the docks. “We will get passage on a military barge heading south. Some of the other Egregia will meet us shortly and get on the same barge. The rest will meet us in Ceantir by evening tomorrow.”

Ashira recognized the Tidalwind sitting in the harbor. Nobody was on deck. Ivarus spoke with a man dressed in a breastplate that covered a red tunic, similar to what Ivarus had been wearing when he had found Ashira in the plaza. It had felt like so long ago, but had really only been just under two weeks ago.

“If I am judging right, we are closing in on them just a little,” Ivarus told her as they boarded the small barge. The soldier led their horses away from the docks to a stable somewhere.

“How can you tell?” she asked.

“I spoke with the king a little after you went to sleep last night. He told me that Kirdan was still outside of Premoi at that sundown yesterday. He was able to send another brief message, this time showing the king the exit of the pass.”

They waited for fifteen minutes. Ashira leaned against the deck, looking at the lights of Premoi to the south. Ivarus waited with the looking glass in his hands, sitting on a crate. At last, single flash of bluish light shone from it, lighting his face for a brief second.

“Astor is nearly here,” he said, standing and walking to the rail. He peered into the night at the docks. A minute later, a man walked toward the barge. He boarded and he and Ivarus embraced, patting each others' backs.

“Astor, it is good to see you again,” Ivarus said, laughing.

“And you, Ivarus,” replied the man. He was a couple inches shorter than Ivarus, with sholder-length locks pulled back into a ponytail. Whereas Ivarus wore a red tunic, Astor wore light blue. There was a light blue dolphin emblazoned in his chest.

They waited another hour. Five more Egregia boarded the barge, each wearing a different colored tunic. They were joined by orange, dark green, brown, dark blue, and black. Ashira remembered Astor's name, but could not keep the others straight. They each had animals on their chests, but did not all carry the same weapons. The black Egregium surprised her, as it was a woman and not a man. She carried no weapons on her, but Ashira could feel that, regardless, she was not one to mess with.

The set out at last, the soldiers chanting while rowing to push the barge down the river. Ashira retreated below deck, where she was shown a cot she could sleep on. She was grateful at last to be able to sleep without fear of attack.

Kirdan knew they were heading to Acustia. He had heard Zagalis telling Seren their destination, but had not heard every detail before being sent away. He wished he could break the witch's spell. He had tried many different things, but nothing had worked. And he could not attack her because he had no control over his actions.

Zagalis and Seren Tuwil were accompanied by a guard of ten men. He had been able to count one night while they all sat around a fire and ate.

If there are only ten, he thought, surely the Egregia will be able to take care of them easily. He was grateful his father had at least been able to tell him that much. It was comforting to know he had the best of Camena's military in pursuit of his captors.

It was the morning of the fifth day that their barge reached the docks of Ceantir. Try as he might, he had been unable to get another message to his father. Zagalis had stopped feeding him the morning before, and his stomach grumbled with hunger.

They were in Acustia now. Zagalis led them into the forest. Kirdan had never been in tees so thick as these. He realized it was this same climate that Ashira grew up in. The Oerard Mountains rose into the sky to their left as they trekked through the trees.

They made camp in a small clearing for the night. Seren led him away from the others and tied him against a tree trunk. Kirdan was confused at first. Then he realized there must be a reason why she was doing this.

An hour passed. Zagalis and Seren came through the trees and into view.

“Time to prepare you for what's ahead, prince,” Zagalis sneered. He pulled out his dagger and held the point against the steward's arm.

“We need you whole, perhaps, but not healthy,” he said, pushing the point into the flesh. Kirdan opened his mouth and screamed, but no sound came out, only the sound of air coming forcefully from his lungs.

The next hour was a blur of pain. At one point, he realized Seren's hold on him was gone, but he could hardly move from exhaustion, hunger, and pain anyway. Seren used needles to torture him. Zagalis used his dagger, sometimes getting the end red-hot before pressing it against his face.

Finally, Kirdan blacked out from the pain.

Ivarus and his company reached Ceantir at noon on the fifth day. The king had received no more from Kirdan. Ivarus instructed Astor to stay with the woman in black in Ceantir and wait for the rest of their team. He led Ashira and the others out of the town and along the border of the woods. The sun was setting, illuminating the mountainsides to the northeast.

Once they stopped to make camp, Ashira climbed a nearby tree and watched the sun go down. She could see the river sparkling in the distance. All was calm and peaceful. The snow on the mountains turned red, then pink and orange, then purple. Ashira breathed in the familiar scent of the trees around her and felt at home again. The sun was gone and she descended the tree, heading back to camp.

They set out before the sun was up. Ivarus had sent orange and dark blue ahead to scout the area. They reported back just after noon that they had found the ruins to the south. It was just getting to be evening when Ivarus held up his hand for them to stop.

“We wait here for the rest of the team,” Ivarus said.

“No,” Ashira said. He looked at her.

“Yes.”

“They have Kirdan. They could start the extraction now for all we know. We need to stop them,” she urged.

“We need to have a sufficient force,” Ivarus said, erring on the side of caution.

“Then I'll go,” she said.

“No.”

“Yes!” she said angrily.

“We cannot lose you, too!”

“But we have not lost Kirdan yet! We need to save him!” she said. She did not understand why Ivarus was waiting.

“Ivarus,” said the orange Egregia. “She is right. We must start now to save the prince.”

Ivarus was not sure why he did not want to go now. Perhaps, he thought, it was something to do with jealousy over Ashira. He berated himself for being so petty.

“Fine,” he said. “We'll go. We'll need a plan, though, before we go rushing in and get killed.”

“I'm sure they know were here,” said brown.

“Yes,” orange agreed.

“Perhaps I could spy on them?” Ashira offered.

“Too dangerous,” Ivarus replied instantly.

“Just hear me out,” she said, seething. “I'll climb one of the taller trees on top of the hill just by the ruins. That was I can look in and see the layout. We could use the extra information.”

“It's a good idea,” orange said. Ashira thanked him.

Ivarus considered for a moment.

“Fine. But I'm sending Viridan with you,” he said, and the man in dark green stepped forward. He wore a long cloak that seemed to make his figure come in and out of focus. “He can at least watch the base of the tree for anyone coming up on you.”

Ashira agreed, and the two set out. The trees loomed overhead and, for once, Ashira felt frightened by the forest. As they rounded the base of a hill, she heard a familiar sound.

Chanting.

“Wait,” she whispered, pausing. Viridan obeyed. “I've heard that chanting before,” she recalled. “Weeks ago, on my way to Barath with my maestro. We must not be far from home, then!”

She was excited at the thought of being so close to Arthoir and Clarris. Happiness surged through her body as they continued on, climbing the next hill to its crest. Ashira climbed a tall pine and perched in its upper branches.

The ruins lay to their south. She could see a large bonfire blazing in the middle. It lighted the pale, chanting faces around it and cast their shadows onto the crumbling walls beyond. The holes in the walls made for multiple entrances, including two on the south side, one on the east, and a door on the west. Ashira could see an altar on the west end. Upon it lay a figure, bound with its hands behind its back.

“Kirdan,” she whispered.

She saw a shorter figure standing near him on the ground. She figured it was the old witch.

A movement on the east end caught her eye. A group of hooded men with Zagalis in front was leading a line of chained people into the ruins. Ashira could tell from their garb that they were likely Acustians from a nearby village. This worried her; her village was not far from these ruins.

She tried to freeze the image in her mind, so she could give details to Ivarus, then climbed down.

“What would they need with Acustians?” Ivarus asked her a few minutes later.

“I don't know, but I'm worried they are from my village,” she said.

“Perhaps they could be an asset to us if we freed them. They could fight for us,” orange said. Ashira thought to herself that she really needed to learn their names.

“If we can free them, yes,” Ivarus agreed.

“I can do it,” Ashira said. “I can break their chains using magic.”

“Yes, but how do we get you to them?” he asked.

“I can stand just on the other side, on the South, and cast it from behind the wall. You guys could rush at the same time from the West door.”

They discussed for a couple more minutes, then Ashira reminded them that Kirdan was already on the altar. They settled the last detail of who would stay outside the ruins and wait for reinforcements, which ended up being the brown Egregia, then headed toward the ruins.

Ashira and Viridan hurried around to the south end, making as little noise as possible. They pressed themselves against the south wall and waited for Ivarus's signal. Ashira felt something hard digging into her back, so she quietly took her pack off and opened it up.

She pulled out the stone bird she had created in the pass. It still looked very real. Its black eyes seemed to draw her focus, and she had a hard time looking away. She put it back in her bag.

A harsh voice rose above the eerie chanting, speaking a tongue foreign to Ashira. She caught words here and there.

“Potere delle stelle . . . commissario. Prendete la magia . . . degno.”

“What did it say?” she asked Viridan, BTU before he could reply the signal came.

A loud, piercing whistle floated over the ruins to their ears. Ashira closed her eyes and felt the familiar warmth spreading through her body. She could sense the chain beyond the barrier of stone behind her. She imagined each link, made of iron, that connected the prisoners. She did not hear the shouts coming form the east side of the ruins as Ivarus and the others stormed in.

In her mind's eye, she broke all the links at once, splitting them in half. A resounding crunch told her she had succeeded. She felt light-headed for a moment and went to one knee while Viridan went around the crumbling wall and into the ruins He shouted at the prisoners to fight for their lives, and they replied with shouts of defiance at their captors.

Ashira stood and followed Viridan's path into the ruins.

There was fighting all around as men in brown robes fought Ivarus and the prisoners. Zagalis was locked in battle with a man, but Ashira could not see the man's face. Seren Tuwil was still standing over Kirdan, who looked to have been tortured. A soft white light was emanating from both of them. As she watched, a ball of the same light began to rise from Kirdan's back. He started convulsing violently.

Ashira ran at the witch, dodging fighting figures and ducking spells. She reached the altar and collided with Seren, knocking her to the ground. The ball of light sunk back into Kirdan and he relaxed, but continued to glow.

“Nasty little girl!” Seren shrieked. She struggled and pushed Ashira off to one side, then sprang to her feet, surprisingly spry for one so old. Ashira crawled away and hid behind a pile of debris. She heard Seren chanting and felt her hair stand on end.

Ivarus, only meters away, also felt his hair stand on end. He glanced over and saw Seren chanting, facing Ashira's hiding place. Thinking quickly, he picked up a nearby rock and threw it at the old witch. It hit her raised hand, breaking a couple fingers on impact. Ivarus's hair returned to normal.

Seren howled in pain and looked his way. She chanted a short verse in her strange tongue and he felt his limbs growing heavier. He tried to lift his sword, but could not. He fell to the ground, laboring to breath. It felt as though his body weighed four times it normally did.

Ashira looked out from behind the rocks and saw Ivarus on the ground. Something moved inside her pack, and she pulled out the stone bird. It squawked at her and took flight , diving at the old witch. Seren saw it coming and dodged to one side. It continued to attack, causing the woman to cast spells and evade its dives.

While she was distracted, Ashira rushed over to Kirdan. He was breathing calmly, out cold on the altar. She hoisted him the stone slab and onto the soft grass at its base.

“Kirdan!” she said, shaking him gently. His head lolled, but he did not wake.

Ivarus watched as the went to Kirdan's aid, a stab of jealousy rising unbidden at the fact that she had rushed to the prince and not Ivarus. He shook it of and stood. Seeing Viridan in trouble, he ran to aid his comrade.

Ashira had not noticed Astor and the other Egregia joining the battle. The hooded men and those fighting them were even now in numbers, but not skill. The Acustians could not match their abilities, just as they could not match those of the Egregia. Ten Acustians had fallen, while only five hooded ones had fallen by their hands. The Egregia had dispatched ten of the hooded men already.

The spotted nutcracker was able to blind Seren in one eye before she finally hit it with a blast of wind, knocking it into the stone wall and breaking off its wings. It squawked helplessly on the ground.

Ashira heard the crunch and turned to face the woman. She was bleeding from multiple wounds to her face where the bird had pecked at her flesh.

“You will pay, child!” she shrieked. “I may not be able to kill you yet, but you will pay dearly!”

Ashira felt the wind get knocked out of her as Seren chanted a short verse. As she leaned forward, her body started to drag her down, weighing more and more by the second. She struggled to take a breath. She felt her hairs stand on end and bright light seemed to shine into her eyes, nearly blinding her. Seren chanted furiously, casting spell after spell on Ashira.

Zagalis was fighting the leader of the Acustians, who had found a sword lying near one of Seren's acolytes. The man fought furiously, as if defending his own family. Zagalis got finally was able to cut him in the sword arm, making him stagger backward. He was about to finsh the man when a woman in black stepped in front of him. She used a staff with two blades at either end, spinning it around her body. Her control was precise, and Zagalis was on his guard. They fought, he mostly dodging her swift stabs.

The leader, Arthoir, had heard a shriek and looked behind him. There, lying on the ground, was his daughter. Her hair was a bit dark, but there was no mistake. That was Ashira.

Forgetting his bleeding arm, he stood and ran at the witch, raising the sword in his good hand.

Ashira saw her father charging the witch, but could not call out to him to warn him. Suddenly, the weight lifted from her and she watched as her father fell to the floor of the ruins. Seren had focused her next spell on him, and it had knocked him out.

Kirdan stirred. He heard sounds of fighting all around, and it hurt his ears. He opened his eyes slightly and saw Seren Tuwil standing over Ashira, chanting. As he watched, she changed her focus onto a man that was rushing her. He fell. Kirdan felt himself waking more, and leaned up on one elbow.

Ashira was in trouble. He needed to help her. He got to his knees and looked at the witch.

“Hey! Wench!” he called at her, swaying a bit. She looked at him and snorted derisively. “Why not face someone as powerful as you instead of picking on them?” He stood slowly, putting his hand on the altar behind him for support.

“Kirdan!” Ashira said, looking at him from her hands and knees. She was breathing hard, trying to catch her breath.

“Ashira,” came Arthoir's mumbled voice. She turned to look at her father.

“Take care of him. I'll get this witch,” Kirdan said as Seren approached him, chanting. He felt a strange buzz in his muscles. His body began to glow and he became weak. He fell to one knee as convulsions overcame him.

Ashira leaned over her father.

“Dad! Are you all right?” she said, cradling his head in her lap.

“Ashira,” he said again, weakly. He coughed.

She did not see Zagalis approaching from behind, bleeding from multiple stab wounds, raising his sword.

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

“WHAT!” the king exclaimed.

“He was accompanied by an old woman. He did not seem himself, but he gave all the proper pass codes and performed the right spells to access it. I came as soon as he was gone.”

Kaion paced behind his desk.

“We will mount a search party for him. Surely this woman was the witch Zagalis spoke of,” he said, looking at Ashira.

“It's likely,” she said.

“Sir, I want to search for Prince Kirdan,” Ivarus said.

Kaion looked at him and smiled.

“You are a true patriot, Ivarus. I am lucky to have a soldier such as you.”

Kaion sat down again, his head in his hands.

“Corthin,: he said, addressing the soldier. “I want you to head a search party. There are two ruins that are far from anywhere that this extraction ritual could take place. Ivarus,” he said, looking at the man, “I want you to head the other party. Corthin will go to Speculi Point, at the southern tip of the plateau. Ivarus will go to the Mancana Ruins, in the foothills of the Oerard range in Acustia.”

“What about me?” Ashira asked.

“You are the stewardess. We cannot let them get their hands on you. You will stay here, where I can protect you,” Kaion said.

“What!”Ashira protested.

“Sir!” Ivarus said at the same time. “I respect your desires, but she is a powerful mage to have with on our side. Surely we should use her abilities to our advantage?”

“She is Kaias's and Zagalis's target. We would be handing her over to them if we sent her to help retrieve my son.”

“I want to go, your majesty,” Ashira said.

Corthin spoke up.

“You mean, she is a stewardess? We could use a person like her on our side, sir. I agree with Ivarus.”

The king looked between the three of them and saw the defiance in their eyes.

“Fine. But I want Ashira to go with Ivarus. Sorry, Corthin,” he apologized to the soldier. “Ivarus has had special training, and I would trust him with my own life. You,” he said, now looking at Ivarus, “watch her and do not let her get hurt. She was caught up in all this by no fault of her own, even if she now volunteers for it.”

“How do you know they are heading to ruins?” Corthin asked.

“My memories,” Ashira said. “He examined them just now when you came in.”

“Both ruins had places where a relic was once kept,” Kaion said. “It could be either one of those places that they plan on doing the extraction.”

Ashira cringed at the word, afraid of what it might entail.

“It is late, and I apologize for that, but we must ride immediately. We may be able to stop them if we do not let them get much of a head start,” Kaion said. He directed Corthin to gather a company of forty to accompany him to Speculi Point.

“Ivarus, I am going to send you out while I send word to the other Egregia in Aetheris. They will catch up to you. I want you to try to head off Kirdan and whoever is with him. If you find them, do whatever you can to impede them, but do not reveal Ashira. Even you are not a match for Kaias and Zagalis.”

Ivarus saluted and turned away.

“Let's go, Ashira,” he said, walking to the door.

“Ashira,” said Kaion. “Thank you for helping to find my son. I'm glad to know the stewardess of Celfstein is a person of moral character.”

She bowed her thanks, then turned and followed Ivarus.

Ashira was exhausted. She had seen much action during the day. Now it was dark out, but she kept pushing forward. They had been provided with warm traveling cloaks and enough food to last until Premoi. The castle had given them both horses, some of their fastest, to ride to Premoi. Ashira had only been on a horse once, and was not used to riding. Ivarus instructed her, telling her not to be afraid, but to have confidence. The horse would sense her fear. She had to practice directing the horse for a few minutes. He told her how to sit in the saddle, told her what the various parts were, and guided her a bit across the plains outside Aetheris.

He showed her a map of Camena. They would backtrack, going through the Vento pass back to Premoi. They would take the river downstream to Ceantir, then walk through the forest and foothills to the ruins.

By the time the night was half gone, Ashira was riding the horse well enough that it was not too uncomfortable. Ivarus pushed them at a moderate pace, letting her doze a little.

An hour before dawn, they were ambushed.

Ashira had requested a stop to relieve herself. She had just returned to the horses when Ivarus shouted out.

“Drop!”

He fell to his hands and knees. Ashira did the same. She felt something pass overhead, then heard a crunch as whatever it was landed on the ground beyond her.

Ivarus was up in a second, searching the dark prairie for their attacker. He drew his sword, Ashira drew her dagger.

Ten figures in hooded robes stepped from the tall grass around the road, encircling them.

“Speak your intent or face my blade,” Ivarus called to the shadows.

“We seek your life!” said one, a man. In one motion, he unsheathed two knives from his waist and threw them at the pair. Ivarus knocked his aside with his blade. Ashira told her to stop, and it did so, hovering in the air. She directed it back at the man, holding it to his neck.

“You will not be taking that today,” she said with a voice as cold as the surrounding countryside.

“She's a Celfsteinian!” voiced one from behind her.

“Attack!” shouted one, and the action began.

Ashira commanded the blade to impale the man in the neck. He fell to his knees. Two came from behind her. She turned and blocked a sword with her dagger. “Become as water!” she commanded the sword. As it obeyed, turning into a puddle of liquid metal, the other cast a spell, sending gravel and rock flying up around her. She couldn't see, the dust getting in her eyes. “Clear away!” she yelled, and the dust dispersed. The man came at her through the dust, two short sword in his hands. She defended, blocking the hits as best as she could. She stomped her foot, and the earth below the man shot upward in a column, sending him sprawling. She turned and saw a man aiming an arrow at Ivarus. She stomped her other foot, and the ground below the archer crumbled, turning into fine sand. He lost his balance and fell, the arrow going awry.

Somebody tackled her from behind, bringing them both to the ground. She struggled as the man held her face down in the dirt.

“Disarm me, eh? I'll show you!”

Ashira screamed. Ivarus, fighting his own two men, could not help her. She looked ahead and saw another archer, this one aiming for her head.

Unable to move anything else, she pounded her forehead on the ground. The earth shook, causing the archer to stumble and fall. Ivarus came forward and cut the man's head off. She hit the ground again. Soil crept up the arms of the man pinning her down.

“What? Get it off!” he yelled.

She concentrated, forcing the soil up his chest and neck and into his mouth. She heard him coughing above her. In a moment he stopped, slumping to one side. She pushed him off as best as she could and stood, looking around wildly.

Ivarus had dispatched of the rest, except for one. He was running away, down the road toward Vento Pass.

“We cannot let any escape!” Ivarus said, cursing. “They cannot know about you!”

Ashira nodded. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the warm feeling flooding her veins. She brought up a wall of the earth in front of the fleeing man.

The escapee hit the wall of soil and fell back. He screamed as the wall fell toward him, crushing him.

The pair stood there for a moment. Ashira was breathing heavily, as though she had just run fifteen kilometers. She felt suddenly light-headed and went down on one knee.

“Ashira!” Ivarus said. He knelt beside her.

“I'm fine,” she said. “Just pushed myself too hard.”

“Don't do that!” he said, chastising her. “Don't kill yourself trying to do too much at once.”

“I know. I just need a moment to rest,” she said weakly. She looked around at the bodies strewn on the ground. “Can we move a bit further away?”

He helped her away from the bloody scene and off the road a few meters. Ashira noticed the blood on her creme-colored traveling cloak. It only served to make her more faint. She sat down and breathed hard through her nose, trying not to vomit.

“After your stunt with Mirari, I'm sure they knew someone would be following them,” Ivarus said. “That's why they had an ambush set up. Which means that there are likely to be others along the road. We may have to detour a bit if we want to stay safe.”

Ashira did not dare open her mouth to respond. Ivarus sat beside her, watching her to make sure she did not pass out. He noticed that the rots of her hair had turned blonde, and her skin was lighter than when they had first met. Even as exhausted as she appeared, he realized she still looked beautiful. Feeling rose unbidden into his chest, and he knew he was falling for her. He thought of Kirdan and pushed the feelings aside. Ashira and the prince obviously had something going, and he would not allow himself to get between them.

Ashira slept for an hour, but Ivarus woke her just after the sun had risen. They set off again, Ashira eating on the trail.

Made it!

Just in time, too.  Whew!  I made fifty thousand words about twenty minutes ago.

Thanks for all who have supported me!  This has been tons of fun, creating this world and these people.

Look for the rest of the story to come, but perhaps not as quickly as it did this month.  It's Christmastime, and my time will be taken up by all the fun things going on.  Hopefully I'll have the story done by the end of the year, but we'll see.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Ten minutes later, Kaias came in.

“You'll come with me, prince,” he said, pulling Salam up by the arm. “Time to put you to some good use.”

Ashira was left alone, worrying about her friend. She kept thinking of him as Salam, his minstrel alias, and not as Kirdan, the prince. Maybe he did not know she knew his secret. Maybe he did not know she was another steward.

She struggled to stand, then paced, trying to figure out a way to get out. She could feel the collarium around her neck. She had hated it last time she could not speak.

It came to her. She could take it off!

Ashira tried to recall what she had thought before the ring had fallen off in Iudes's residence.

I needed to write another note. Then I wanted this thing off my neck. Perhaps just commanding it will do the trick.

Get off my throat! She thought, focusing on the metal collar.

The warm tingling came to her neck again, and the ring fell from her neck.

“Oh,” she sighed, relieved to have gotten it off.

It occurred to her that she could have done that for Salam if she had remembered it sooner. She cursed her horrible memory.

Ashira's hands were still bound behind her. She tried to step through her arms to bring them around to he front, but the bindings were too high up her arms to make it. She looked around the tower room.

In one corner stood a stone table. There was a small window near the top of the room.

“Not much to work with,” she muttered.

She backed herself up to the stone table and closed her eyes, her hands touching the top. She pictured a chunk coming loose and falling on the floor near her. A thunk next to her foot told her it had happened, and she looked down at the head-sized rock. Sitting down carefully next to it, she put her hands around the chunk of stone. She closed her eyes again.

In her mind's eye, she imagined the rock shedding flakes until it resembled a dagger point stuck through the rock. She turned carefully and saw that it had indeed become such, flakes of stone covering the floor around it. She moved her arms closer to the newly formed blade and moved them up and down, trying to cut through the rope. She heard footsteps approaching outside, and positioned herself in front of the stone just as the young man entered. He did not look at her, but only set down a plate with a small bit of cheese and a hard biscuit, then left. She ignored the food for now and continued trying to remove the rope.

Ten minutes of struggling and the rope finally fell free. She pulled her arms around and stretched her shoulder muscles, which ached. She stood and approached the food. The biscuit was old and rock-hard. The cheese had spots of mold. She kicked the plate aside. Some hospitality for a senator of Camena, she thought.

She paced for a bit, deciding how to escape. She could manipulate the stone easily enough, she was certain. But once she got out, how would she escape the manor? Her dagger was still in the library, as far as she knew. And her flute, although she had it, was useless to her as something with which to cast magic.

She could wait until the servant came in, then take him hostage. But no, Kaias likely would not care if the young man died.

She could sneak through the manor, using a chunk of stone as her weapon. She approached the table, which now had a large hole in it. The rock was at her feet, the point sticking upward.

Or she could create a stone dagger.

She put her hand on the table again, closed her eyes, and imagined the stone falling away to reveal a replica of her dagger. When she opened her eyes, the stone had even turned the same colors. She grasped the hilt of her stone dagger and hefted it. It was much heavier than her real dagger, but she could wield it with two hands. She realized how much energy carving it had taken, and sat down for a few minutes.

The window let a few rays of sunshine through. She tried to see what time it was, but could not. She guessed it was around six in the evening. Sundown was only an hour away. She had to meet Ivarus in the West Plaza, but she had no idea where she was.

Ashira took a collarium from the peg on the wall. She pressed her hand against the wall next to the door. She could feel another person resting against the other side, the heat from his body emanating into the stone. She imagined the stone encompassing him, wrapping around his chest and arms and pinning him to the wall. She told the stone near him to split, and it did. She walked out onto the landing at the top of the spiral stairs. To her right was the young man, his chest and arms encased in stone. He was struggling to get free, but the stone held fast.

“Help!” he started calling out.

Ashira placed the ring around his neck, interrupting his shouts.

“Sorry,” she said, truly apologetic. She searched him, but her dagger was not there. She figured Mirari or Kaias must have taken it.

She turned and ran down the stairs, one hand holding tight to the hilt of the stone dagger. When she felt she was approaching the bottom, she slowed, cautious. She peeked quickly around the corner, but the corridor was empty. She stepped out and began to run quietly toward the end. The door to the library was on the right side. She had to pass it and turn left in order to go down the other corridor that led to the grand staircase.

She paused in front of it, trying to listen through the wood. She heard two men speaking. She closed her eyes and placed her hand on the stone wall next to the door.

“The ruins are far away from anywhere. The society will meet us there and we will perform the ritual, with the witch's help,” came Zagalis's voice through the stone.

“I see,” Mirari replied. “So once the prince has the relic, we'll take him and the girl to these ruins, then extract their powers?”

“Yes. I will take the powers to control both relics. Then I will be unstoppable.”

Ashira backed away from the door. Her foot caught on the rug behind her and she fell, grunting as she hit the stone floor. She stood quickly, preparing herself and stepping away once more.

Mirari opened the door and saw her.

She hefted the stone dagger with both hands. The maestro grinned evilly and raised her own dagger. Ashira struck first, her stone clashing against the metal. Mirari pushed her away and they stood facing each other.

“May the relic curse you, you evil slime!” she said angrily. She attacked again, but he knocked it aside easily.

“Seems your weapon is a bit heavy for you,” he said as she let the point rest on the ground for a second.

He began to advance on her. She backed away down the corridor, toward the tower stairs. Mirari began to sing a taunting tune, sneering at her.

“Little girl, so far from home, you've fallen for a trick. Little girl, so weak and frail, waving a little stone stick, surrender to my soothing voice, give up your little fight. Walk away back to your room and stay there for the night.”

Ashira felt the power of his words trying to affect her. She felt his will pressing against hers in her mind. She recalled the struggle with the man who had tried to kill Ivarus. She pushed back, resisting Mirari's will.

“I will not!” she said through clenched teeth.

She pushed harder and felt his will give way just a bit. In this state, she could sense all the stone around her, in the walls and the floor. She even felt the large stone that was Kaias's desk in the library.

Ashira stomped her foot, telling the stone below Mirari to shoot upward. It obeyed, ripping through the rug and launching the man back. Ashira felt his will break and she stepped forward.

“You will not control me! I am the stewardess of Celftsein.”

She commanded the stone to return, and it did. A large hole in the rug showed where the pillar had been. Mirari lay near the door to the library. Her dagger had flown from his hands, and lay a meter to his right. He sat up, dazed.

Ashira ran and took up her dagger, tossing aside the stone one. She held it to the maestro's neck. She felt her heart pounding and fury coursing through her.

“Encase this man completely,” she commanded the floor. Stone ripped through the rug once more, covering Mirari as he sat there. Within seconds the stone had enclosed him, matching his shape and features. It looked as though he had turned into stone himself.

She looked up and saw the open door to the library. She entered, but Zagalis had escaped.

Ashira turned away and walked down the corridor. She could feel the power of the rock all around her, begging to be used. She ignored it, walking down the grand marble staircase. A few servants who had heard the commotion stood to the sides and watched as the girl with the dagger walked to the door. She raised a hand and the doors opened, pulled by their metal handles.

The streets were still busy. People milled around, oblivious to who walked among them. Some eyed her weapon and shied away. Ashira sheathed her dagger and approached a man sitting on the ground against a building.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said. He looked up at her. “Can you direct me tot he West Plaza?”

“You're on the north side, dear,” he said. “You need to go toward the setting sun.” He pointed to the right. “Go that way to reach the nearest plaza. Take the road across from this one and follow it. It will take you to the west end.”

“Thank you,” she said, bowing slightly. She walked away, weary of those around her. Anytime she saw anyone with a hood, she avoided them, walking on the other side of the street.

She pondered what she had overheard. Kirdan was being used to steal the relic, while they planned on taking her and him to some ruins to perform a ritual that would strip them of their powers. Zagalis would control both relics. He would be unstoppable.

Ashira reached the first plaza. The sun was almost down, so she decided to run as much as possible. She made it through the crowd in the plaza and started running along the street beyond. Within ten minutes she had reached another plaza, but it was not as large as the one she needed to find. A vendor directed her toward the east. She ran to the next plaza.

Ivarus stood near the central fountain, waiting. He saw her coming from the west and looked confused.

“Why didn't you come from the east, from the coliseum?” he asked when she reached him. She caught her breath, then answered.

“I was captured by Mirari,” she said briefly.

“What?!”

“He was working with Kaias Celsis and Zagalis.”

“Was?”

“I killed him.”

Ivarus's eyes were big, showing his shock.

“I think you better come with me to the king.”

“The king?” she asked, then realized he was talking about Kirdan's father. “Oh, yes. I know about Kirdan's alias, by the way,” she said, following him.

“Keep your voice down,” he said fiercely. He looked around. “People don't know he goes out on his own masquerading as a minstrel.”

Ivarus led her through the crowds toward the castle. They reached the portcullis and Ivarus spoke with one of the guards. He let them through and they walked through the gardens. Ashira could smell the pine trees and hear birds singing. The high walls surrounding the castle blocked most of the noise of the city, and it was good to enjoy a bit of peace.

Ivarus and Ashira walked up the broad granite steps to the door of the castle. Four soldiers stood guard.

“Ivarus, back so soon?” one said.

“Yes. I must bring this woman to the king. She has information about the whereabouts of his son.”

“You know an appointment must be set up to see him,” said the one on the far right.

“I do. But Prince Kirdan has been kidnapped, and Ashira knows where he is and who did it. We must speak with the king,” Ivarus insisted.

“I'm letting them through,” said the one on the left. He pushed open the large door behind him.

“Fine. But it will be on your head, not mine,” said the rightmost one.

Ivarus and Ashira walked into the castle.

She gasped. The entrance hall was huge, reaching at least six stories up. Wide, polished granite stairs led up to a balcony overlooking the first floor. Massive stone columns held the roof far above, upon which was a large mural. She tried to see what the painting was. It seemed to tell a story, starting with a battle on one side and ending with a large glimmering city on the other.

“It shows the history of Camena, from the battle of Radunio, to the giving of the relic, through the many years and accomplishments, such as the building of the coliseum,” Ivarus explained. He walked over to a guard standing at the bottom of the stairs. Ashira did not hear what he said, but a moment later the guard walked away.

“We'll wait here for a few moments and he'll get approval to see the king.”

She nodded and continued to look around. The walls were stone, which had started to feel comforting to her. She was admiring a statue of a deer when Ivarus came back and beckoned for her to follow.

They walked down a wide corridor lined with statues, suits of armor, and paintings. Tall golden doors gleamed at the end. Two guards opened the doors, allowing the pair to walk through into the throne room.

Ashira expected to see the king sitting on the throne, but he was not. He was nowhere to be found. Ivarus kept walking, past the marble thrones, to a door behind. He opened it and let her go past.

A man in his mid-forties sat at a small wooden desk, dressed in a simply royal blue robe. The room smelled like the forest, with wood panels and hardwood floors. It was simple and rustic, and reminded Ashira of home. She felt homesick, realizing just how far away Arthoir and Clarris were.

“Your majesty, this is Ashira,” Ivarus introduced.

Ashira realized the man was the king, and curtsied deep.

“None of that, none of that,” the king said, standing and gesturing for her to stand up. I may be king, but I do not hold to such formalities.” He walked around the desk and took Ashira's hand, kissing the top of it. “Welcome to Aetheris, Ashira. I hope all had been well?”

She looked at Ivarus, who answered for her.

“Actually, no, sir. That's why I'm back.”

“No? Well, sit down and tell me,” he said, going back to his seat. Ashira and Ivarus sat across the desk from him. The wooden chairs had dark violet cushions and were very soft.

“Oh, pardon my manners,” the king said. “I am Kaion Tabernarius, King of Camena.” He smiled kindly. “No tell me, why has your stay not been good? Ivarus told me about my son being kidnapped, and I know about your journey from Premoi.”

Ashira looked at him. He was a slim man, about the same height as Kirdan, with hair parted to one side. She could tell that this was her friend's father.

“I was captured by Mirari,” she said shortly.

“Mirari? The Maestro? How do you mean 'captured'?” the king asked in surprise.

Ashira dropped all fear of being in the presence of royalty and began describing her experience upon reaching the coliseum. She finished with her escape from Kaias's manor.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment as Ivarus and Kaion pondered her story.

“So Mirari was a traitor. I guess he got what he deserved,” Kaion said. He sighed. “It's too bad, really. He was a brilliant man.”

“One thing I don't get,” Ivarus said. “Why did the guard at the coliseum say Zagalis had been brought into the city as an ambassador?”

Kaion looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I'm certain you would figure it out if you gave it a bit more thought. There at Celfsteinian refugees that live here in Aetheris. They fled a few years ago after Zagalis came to power. We took them in and provided them places to live. Their resentment toward Zagalis would have surely driven them to do something drastic, even going so far as to attempt to assassinate him, had they known who it was being paraded through the streets. Kaias would not risk that.”

“But why even display him at all? Why not bring him in secretly?” Ashira asked.

Kaion looked at her.

“Do you know the current political situation here in Camena?” he asked.

“Sal- I mean, Kirdan mentioned some of it, but I don't remember very well.”

“I see you are still wanting to call him by his alias.

“Anyway, there are people here who want to see me dethroned. They are mostly senators and some judges. Why? For power. Kaias wants to take the throne, similar to what Zagalis has done in Celfstein. It seems he thinks that Zagalis, once he has all the relics, will be able to put him into this position. In the meantime, he has been trying to rally the people against me.

As we have been attacked by raiders from Chaelesta and Celfstein, Kaias has been lying to the populace, telling them we're under attack from Kadencia. Were I to say we are really under attack from the other two nations, he would jump on it and tell the people I am lying to raise up a standing army. He today published that the 'ambassadors' from Chaelesta and Celfstein are here to talk about forming an alliance to defend against Kadencia. This has gotten even more people to trust him, as they think he defending them against invaders. Really, he is lying to get them to not volunteer for military service. Now the people will think that we have the other two nations helping us, so they won't need to enlist. It's a nightmare, I'll tell you. My authority is being completely undermined. My subjects in Latena and Laritus have received no help from the raiding Chaelestans and Celfsteinians because nobody will sign up to help defend them. The small army we do have is being used to fortify other cities in case of attack.

“And then my son decides to wander off and gets himself kidnapped. I have not made it known, but do not be surprised if Kaias tells the public the prince is missing and blames it on my 'incompetence'.”

Ashira felt bad for the king. She felt his concern for his kingdom and his people, and she could see the frustration evident on his face that he could not help in some way.

“I wish there was some way for Kaias to be revealed for what he really is: a traitor,” Ivarus said.

“There will be a time eventually,” Kaion said. “He will slip up one way or another.”

“What about Kirdan?” Ashira asked. “They came and took him away. He may not even be at Kaias's manor anymore.”

“Did you hear anything about where they were going with him?”

Ashira tried to recall. She had overheard Mirari speaking with Zagalis in the study before Mirari attacked her, but she could not remember what was said.

“Maybe,” she said uncertainly. “I overheard Zagalis and Mirari, but I can't remember what was said. They mentioned me, though, as being part of a plan.”

Kaion looked at her, considering something.

“I have an idea, but if you don't want to do it, I understand,” said the king. He pulled a panel off his desk to reveal a large looking glass.

Ashira knew instantly what his idea was. Kaion saw the realization on her face.

“Like I said, you don't have to. But we can use it. Kirdan created it for me, just as he made one for Mirari. It is the same thing.”

Ashira got up her courage.

“I'll do it, as long as you promise me something,” she said. He nodded for her to continue. “Do not examine my emotions or any memory before Premoi.”

“I promise,” Kaion said. He stood and she mimicked. She looked into the glass and he began to hum.

Ashira felt herself falling into her eyes again.

She was back near the entrance to the Coliseum. She walked to the usher and spoke with him. She could feel another presence this time, but could see nobody, as though the person were standing just outside of her vision.

“It's me,” came Kaion's voice to her mind. “Don't worry. I'm just observing. I cannot affect anything.”

Ashira watched all of her memories unfold. Events happened just as they had earlier that day. She watched the symphony, then spoke with Mirari. She was inside the looking glass. She tried to save Verat, then ran from the maestro. Now she was in the study with Mirari and Kaias, then the tower with Kirdan. She knew the king was watching all of this, but did not mind. He needed to know exactly what had happened.

They reached the conversation and Ashira listened once again to what was said.

“The ruins are far away from anywhere. The society will meet us there and we will perform the ritual, with the witch's help,” came Zagalis's voice.

“I see,” Mirari replied. “So once the prince has the relic, we'll take him and the girl to these ruins, then extract their powers?”

“Yes. I will take the powers to control both relics. Then I will be unstoppable.”

Ashira tripped on the rug again. She knew she was about to kill Mirari, but she let the king see. He needed to know everything he could.

“Your majesty,” came a voice to her mind. It sounded urgent. “Sir! Your majesty!”

Ashira found herself sitting on the violet chair once more. Kaion stood on the other side of the table, and Ivarus was next to her. A castle soldier stood near the desk.

“Sir,” he said. Kaion looked at him. The soldier looked a bit nervous as he spoke his news. “Prince Kirdan has taken the relic from the treasury, sir.”

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Mirari and Ashira sat across from one another once more.

“I saw how Zagalis came to be here. However, I am intrigued by this other woman you met in the alley in Barath,” Mirari said. “I have not seen her before. Judging by her magic, I'd say she is Chaelestan.”

“She gave me a fortune,” Ashira said. Her eyes were still red, but she had stopped crying. “She said I'd find two gifts while I'm here. I don't know what it means, though.”

“I'm sorry, I don't do divination.”

“So can you teach me anything about magic?” Ashira asked the maestro. “I came to you to ask whether you could help me learn how to use my magic.”

Mirari considered the question for a moment.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I have never taught a Celfsteinian. In fact, the only Celfsteinian I had met before you was Verat.”

His face showed sudden concern.

“Speaking of which, he was supposed to meet me after the symphony concluded. That was nearly an hour ago. Where is he?”

Ashira remembered what she had overheard.

“He's in trouble!” she exclaimed. “I overheard two people saying something about him being a target. You don't think they plan on killing him for deserting?”

Mirari nodded gravely.

“It would seem like it.”

“Then we must find him! I want to ask him about Celfstein, about my parents, about Zagalis,” she said hurriedly, standing quickly.

“You're right. I will call the soldiers to start a search for him.”

“I'm going to look for him on my own,” Ashira said with determination.

“Then take this,” Mirari said, picking up a smaller looking glass from a bench behind his chair. “I have a matching one. If you find him, say my name three times and I'll be able to see and speak with you. I'll do the same.”

“Thank you, Mirari. You've helped, just by writing my story.”

“Yes, yes. Verat could be in trouble. Now go!”

Ashira left the room and ran to the exit of the coliseum. There were a few people still milling about, but not enough to be in her way. She left through the main exit and paused, unsure of where to go. The forest around the coliseum was not vast, but enough that somebody could be attacked without it being noticed. She ran to the nearest path that led through the trees, calling Verat's name.

It took twenty minutes. She began to lose hope and planned on leaving to search through the city when she heard a faint reply to her right, behind a hedge.

“Verat?!” she called again, louder.

“Help!” came the weak voice again.

Ashira ran along the hedge, searching for a way through. Not finding one, she decided to crawl through the bottom. Branches tore and tugged, scratched her skin and caught her hair. She reached the other side and ran back to where she had heard the voice.

Verat lay on the ground, holding his side. Blood was seeping from between his fingers and had created a puddle on the grass.

“Help,” he said again, seeing her.

“Verat!” she rushed over to him. She was not sure what to do, but decided to wrap the wound as best as she could.

“Don't worry, I'll get help,” she said. She used one of the tears on her tunic and made it longer, ripping off a long piece with which she bandaged the knife wound.

“Who. . .you?” he whispered.

“My name is Ashira,” she said, working to tie the cloth. “I am the steward of Celfstein.”

“No!” he croaked. “You must . . leave. . . . Not safe!”

“I will not leave you alone to die!” she said with emotion. She wanted to cry, but her tears were spent.

“Zagalis. . . looks for. . . you.” Verat managed. She rested his head on her lap, keeping one hand on the wound to help staunch the bleeding. His face was bruised, his arm lay broken beside him.

“He has found me,” she said. “He traded me for my friend, Salam.”

“No. He. . . would never. . . give you up.”

“What? But he did. He wanted my friend, the son of a senator, to use against the king and those who are aligned with him.”

“He would never. . . give up the. . . steward. He . . . must not have. . . known.”

His breathing was becoming more labored.

“You mean, he didn't know he had captured the stewardess when he caught me?”

Verat shook his head slightly.

A voice came from behind her.

“But now I've caught you again,” Mirari said. Ashira turned her head to look at the maestro.

“What?”

“Idiot girl,” said the man, stepping forward. He took out a knife from his belt and stabbed Verat again, this time in the chest.

“No!” Ashira screamed. Verat coughed, then lay still in her lap.

“Gets rid of that traitorous vermin,” Mirari said, wiping his blade off on Verat's cloak.

“You killed him! You evil-”

“Save your breath, whelp,” Mirari said, backhanding her across the cheek. “Now I've found you, Kaias will have me as his right hand man once the king is finally dead.”

Ashira held her cheek. Now she realized why Mirari had wanted her memories. The man was working with Kaias Celsis and Zagalis to capture her and throw Camena into turmoil.

“The king will see you hang,” she said softly. “If I don't kill you first.”

“Kill me? The few times you've killed have been by pure luck,” he said with a chuckle, standing up. He grasped her hair and pulled upward. She screamed and followed his hand up. “You know no more magic than you do how to play the flute.”

Ashira looked around for any stone she could use against him. The cobblestone path was on the other side of the hedge, and she could not see it.

Mirari threw her against a tree and pinned her there. He put his face right next to hers.

“But you are pretty, girl. I could sell you for a lot of money.”

Ashira felt the heat of his breath and scrunched her nose.

“Boy, you need to wash your mouth,” she said, infuriating him further. He backhanded her again.

“Just wait until I take you to Zagalis!” he screamed. He pulled her away from the trunk and she fell, her knee falling on a fallen branch.

“Get up!” he yelled. She looked up slowly into his eyes, defiance shining in them. Her hand grasped the branch beneath her and she stood quickly, bringing it up between his legs. He howled as the wood made contact and released her hair.

Ashira made a break for it, running into the trees.

“Don't think you can lose me in here, Ashira! I know this forest. I grew this forest!” he called from behind her.

Ashira grasped her dagger hilt. Perhaps she could throw it at him? But then she'd be without a weapon. She dodged around trees and bushes. Ahead, she saw the solid stone of the coliseum.

Trapped, she thought. Then an idea came to her.

She raced ahead toward the stone. Placing her hand on the wall, she spoke softly to it.

“Split apart. Let me through to the other side.”

The wall obeyed, splitting open just wide enough for her to slide through sideways. She looked back into the forest and saw Mirari chasing her with a slight limp. She reached the other side and held her hand to the wall again.

“Now close and do not let him through.” The wall obeyed again, closing the gap before Mirari could reach it.

Ashira observed her surroundings. She seemed to in a backstage area, where props and stage items were kept. She wound her way through the maze of various objects, looking for a door. She could hardly see, the only light coming from a small skylight near the ceiling.

She tried to calm her breathing and get her mind wrapped around what had just happened. Mirari was a traitor to Camena! He was in cahoots with Kaias and Zagalis and the Chaelestan witch to overthrow the Camenian government. But why would they take Salam? Surely a simple senator's son would not be enough to ransom the king?

She found a door and opened it cautiously. It led to the hall of the coliseum. She saw the large circular stone slabs that had created the tiers for the performers to sit on. They were lowered now, leaving the entire arena flat. The hall was deserted, though a light still shone from the ceiling. She ran across the large open area, heading toward another door. She would exit the way she came in, by commanding the stones to move.

She had just reached it when she felt something hit the back of her head. She went down on one knee, dazed.

“Think you could escape?” Mirari said, his voice sounding distant. “Perhaps you forgot that I could see you through that glass on your hip. Again, idiot girl.”

She felt strong hands binding her arms behind her back and taking away her dagger. Mirari led her back to his quarters, where he locked her up in the dark. She sat on the red chair, trying to regain her focus.

Things were happening so fast. She tried to sort through the information in her mind. Zagalis and the Chaelestan witch had met her in Barath, but had not known she was the stewardess. Then Zagalis's men had captured her to use as bait to draw Salam into a trap, which had worked. Zagalis let her go, not knowing who she really was. But what about the men who had attacked her just outside of Premoi. They had known she was special, and surely they were Zagalis's men.

She pondered why the men would have known how she was the steward, but Zagalis would not have. Perhaps the men were on assignment and had not had the opportunity to tell him? Perhaps they were not his men. But no, the dying one had said his name.

“Ivarus,” Ashira cried into the darkness. “Salam. Malimu. Anyone, please. Surely somebody is looking for me.” Her head ached from the attack, and scratches covered her arms and legs where the branches had scraped her.

Now Zagalis had Salam to use against the king. And the usher had said a Celfsteinian man had been welcomed with an old woman in some sort of parade. Why would they make pretense of being ambassadors? Zagalis and Kaias were working together; Salam's suspicions about the senator were correct. Mirari was working with them, and she had walked right into his hands. Why had she been so trusting?

She sat in darkness for what felt like hours. Her thoughts turned to the symphony. Mirari had shown her the past, her past, accompanied by beautiful music. Now she knew what her father and mother looked like. Then he had brought back memories that she never have remembered otherwise. She would cherish those for as long as she lived, however long that may be. Although he had betrayed her trust, he had still given her something else, something dangerous. He had given her hope.

The door opened. In walked a man in a green toga with medium length brown hair that fell straight past his ears. A patch of white hair could be seen as well on one side. He was broad and muscled, but not tall, standing only an inch taller than Ashira. His hose was hooked, his chin was chiseled. Had Ashira seen him any other time, she would have thought him handsome. Now all she saw was evil incarnate before her, hatred burning in his eyes. Mirari followed behind, lighting a lantern on the wall.

“She has brown hair,” the man said, his voice a husky bass. “You said she is blonde.”

“She is,” Mirari said, hurrying over to her. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her to turn. The man saw her blonde strands at the back of her neck.

“I see. And her skin?”

“Dyed,” the maestro replied. “I saw it all in her memories.” He let go of Ashira, who stood tall, her hands still tied behind her back.

The man walked around her like a wolf circling its prey.

“You sure gave her a beating,” he said, looking at her black eye.

“She resisted.”

Ashira spoke.

“Who are you?” she asked softly. She wanted to know who the man was, for he surely was not Zagalis. She had seen Zagalis once before; this man was Camenian.

“Do not speak!” Mirari yelled in her face.

“Mirari, calm yourself,” the man said smoothly. “I am Kaias Celsis, Senator from Aetheris.”

Ashira's suspicions were confirmed.

“I have something to tell you, Kaias,” she said, getting up her courage. “Come closer so I can whisper it. Mirari cannot know.”

Kaias was interested, and gave in to the temptation. He leaned toward her.

“Screw you,” she whispered, bring up her knee as hard as she could. She made contact with his groin.

Kaias grunted and fell to his knees, holding himself.

“You'll pay for that, whelp!” Mirari shrieked, approaching her. Kaias held up one hand to stop him.

“She's fine,” he managed through clenched teeth.

“Curse you!” she raged at Mirari. “I trusted you! I thought you would help me! You traitor! You deserve to die.”

Kaias crawled into one of the chairs. Mirari folded his arms and looked at her.

“That reminds me,” he said, looking at Kaias. “Who is the Chaelestan witch?”

“What witch?”

“There was an old Chaelestan witch with Zagalis in Ashira's memories.”

“I'm not party to that information, it would seem,” Kaias said, his hand still holding his injured parts.

“Hm.”

Ashira looked between them.

“What do you plan to do with me?” she asked the men.

“Well, once we turn you over to Zagalis, he will rule both the Celfsteinian and the Camenian relics. He will conquer Acustia and Kadencia and set me us as king over all Amrahn. Mirari here will be my adviser.”

“How?”

“How what, whelp?” Mirari said.

“How will he have the Camenian relic?” she asked.

“He has the prince held captive, and he is the steward over Camena's relic. Once he has you, he'll be able to access Celfstein's relic. He has waited a long time to have you, Ashira,” Kaias explained.

“Enough questions. She doesn't need to know this. She'll find everything out eventually,” Mirari said.

“Fine. We'll take her to Zagalis. He should be at my residence now,” Kaias said. “Make her follow.”

Mirari took out Ashira's own dagger and held the point against her back, forcing her to walk forward. They left the coliseum and headed into the streets. Ashira tried to remember the roads and landmarks, but the turns confused her, and she lost her sense of direction. She thought about what Kaias had said. Zagalis had the prince, as well as Salam. The prince was the steward over the relic. If Camena's prince was a steward, was Celfstein's stewardess a princess? She dismissed the fanciful idea. But if Kaias held the prince captive, why did he need Salam? Surely holding the prince ransom was enough.

And then a thought occurred to her that had not before.

“What is the prince's name?” she asked Kaias, thinking that he was more likely to respond civilly than Mirari was.

“Kirdan,” he said.

Realization came over her. That was the same name Ivarus had called Salam while she was at Iudes's house.

“Salam is the prince?” she said aloud.

“Salam? No, Kirdan,” Kaias corrected her.

“Right.”

Ashira was in shock. The only thing that kept her moving was the dagger point at her back, which was carefully being concealed by Mirari from the eyes of passerby.

The whole time she had been traveling with the prince of Camena, and he had not told her. She had not known. Salam was the steward of the Camenian relic, just as she was stewardess of Celfstein's. She almost laughed at the strange coincidence that had brought them together in the first place, but held it back for fear of retribution.

They reached a tall, seven story building with marble facade. Two soldiers standing as sentries saluted Kaias as he approached the large double doors and entered, followed by Ashira and Mirari.

They entered a great hall, also made of marble, and ascended broad steps to a corridor. Kaias led them into a grand study, with books lining the walls for two stories up. Forest green rugs covered the floor, and a great stone slab formed the desk at the back of the room. Large stained-glass windows were on either side. Emerald green couches sat around a fireplace not far from the desk.

Zagalis sat next to the old woman on one of the couches. Salam sat on a chair near the old woman, his arms bound, a collarium on his neck to prevent him from singing.

“Zagalis,” Kaias said, smiling broadly and spreading his arms. “Welcome to my home. I hope you have been served well while I was away?”

“Indeed, Kaias,” the usurper replied. “Tell me, why have you brought this girl to me? I already rid myself once of her.”

“Zagalis, may I present Ashira,” Mirari said, stepping forward and bowing slightly, gesturing to her with the dagger. He stood erect. “She is the stewardess of Celfstein.”

Ashira watched Zagalis's eyes grow big. Salam's reaction was much the same. The old lady only smiled and nodded knowingly.

“This girl. . . “ Zagalis started. He had lost track of her so many years ago, and now here she was before him. Not just that, but he had actually captured her and let her go once before.

“I assume this changes plans a bit?” Kaias inquired.

“Indeed,” said the witch, standing now. “We can use her just as we are using the prince here.”

“Pardon, but who are you?” Kaias asked her.

The witch smiled again, this time showing her yellow teeth.

“I am Seren Tuwil, of Chaelesta,” she said, bowing slightly in greeting.

“Seren will aid me in acquiring the Camenian relic's magic,” Zagalis explained.

“I see. Let us take seats and we can discuss this,” Kaias said. He led them back to the couches to sit and called a servant over to him. A young Celfsteinian man hurried over from a dark corner, his face showing his nervousness.

“Take the prisoners to the tower. Place a collarium on the girl's neck,” the senator instructed.

The young man bowed, then took Ashira's dagger that Mirari offered him. He held Ashira and Salam at the point, forcing them to walk out of the room and down another corridor. They went up a winding staircase into a small tower room. Taking a ring from the wall, he placed it around Ashira's neck and held his hand on it.

“Seal,” he commanded, and it did so.

He left, locking the door behind him.

Ashira looked at Salam with eyes full of sorrow. He smiled sadly at her and shrugged. They sat on the stone floor and leaned against each other for comfort, their backs against the stone wall.