The Unseen Tempest (Lords of Arcadia) Read online

  “Protect,” Ruber intoned loudly, summoning a dome of pure energy over us that the frenzied croquet players slammed into headfirst. I could hear bones snapping as the first wave was crushed against the dome by the ones in back, who were still running full tilt at us. I closed my eyes at the horror as more and more faces pressed up against Ruber’s dome.

  Hawk, on the other hand, wasn’t confused at all and summoned Truheart into his hand and stood over me. “Are we under attack?” he asked, throwing the question out to anyone who could answer.

  “If we are, it is a dreadfully ineffective one,” Ruber commented. His shield continued to hold.

  “Oh my,” Milo squeaked, his whiskers shaking as the last of the mob stopped moving against the dome. “Oh dear me.”

  “Are they all dead?” I asked, my eyes still closed.

  “Most are,” Hawk answered, and I got a flash of what he was seeing for half a second.

  I felt sick to my stomach.

  “This is not good,” Milo ranted as we waited for another wave of attackers. “I believe we have committed a great crime.”

  Hawk looked down at him and asked incredulously, “One that would warrant a full-on assault?”

  I had to agree with the sentiment. What in the world could we have done to get this kind of reaction so quickly? Usually people needed a couple of hours to hate us this much.

  “Assault?” Milo asked, sounding confused and worried at the same time. “What assault?”

  Hawk pointed at the pileup of dead bodies outside the dome. “That one?”

  Milo looked at them and then back to Hawk. “That wasn’t an assault! That was croquet, you idiot!”

  I’m not sure calling someone like Hawk an idiot while he had a sword in his hand was a good idea, but I do know I didn’t want to find out how bad an idea it could be. I stood up and waved Hawk off. “They seemed pretty aggressive for croquet,” I pointed out. “They look more like they were playing rugby, or maybe murderball.”

  I could tell both sports meant nothing to the rabbit because his ears twitched slightly, and he scoffed. “Well, I don’t know how you play croquet where you come from, but here, battle croquet is taken very seriously. I think we just disrupted a game.”

  “Battle. Croquet?” I asked slowly, wondering if somehow his words were being translated badly or something. By now I was pretty sure that even though there was magic around us that let us all speak the same language, the magic had a perverse sense of humor and liked making communication as hard as possible.

  Before Milo could answer me, there was a pounding on the other side of the dome. It was muffled, but it was pretty clear someone was rapping on it. Ruber floated toward where the dome was being hit and focused his attention on the area. “Someone is using some kind of mystical force to test the barrier’s strength.”

  “Drop it,” Milo said quickly. “Drop it before they mistake us for a hostile force.”

  “Isn’t that a reason to keep it up?” Hawk debated.

  The rabbit ignored him and looked up at Ruber. “If you don’t drop it, they will shatter it.”

  Which was, of course, the wrong thing to say to the gem.

  “I highly doubt that,” he commented back.

  Which was the exact instant the dome shattered in a million glowing pieces, like glass made out of light. Ruber cried out and fell out of the air like a… well, crap, like a rock, I guess. Hawk assumed a defensive stance in front of us, Truheart raised. There were a dozen guards flanked around a tall man who looked like he was on the wrong side of a thousand years old. He had a long white beard that hung down, covering the front of what looked like a pretty snazzy wizard’s robe done in blue velvet. All he was missing was a pointy hat with stars on it to complete his “I am a magic kind of guy” costume. While everyone was looking at Hawk and his glowing sword, I scooped Ruber up and stashed him in my pocket. If I had learned anything in my time pretending to be an adventurer, it was you cannot have too many aces up your sleeve.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Grandpa wizard asked loudly, no doubt playing for the crowd instead of us. “It is a royal crime to interrupt a game in progress.”

  Both Hawk and Milo began speaking at the same time.

  “It was a mistake. Please forgive us,” Milo pleaded.

  “We know nothing of this realm. How can you expect us to know it’s a crime?” Hawk shouted.

  The old man said nothing as they both rambled on.

  “Father William, please, there are extenuating circumstances.”

  “I am a member of the Arcadian royal family and demand to speak to someone in charge.”

  I began to get the feeling this was worse than I thought.

  When Hawk and Milo wore themselves out trying to talk over each other, they stopped and waited for Father William to speak.

  “Milo Farnsworth, you are known to me. You, prince of Arcadia, are not. Ignorance of the law is not a defense against it, but as always, the final judgment lies elsewhere.”

  “Oh crap,” I muttered, realizing where this was going. I leaned over to Hawk and whispered, “Seriously, change your tactic now, because if this is going down the way I think it is, we are going to get our heads cut off.” He glanced back at me, and I felt him file through my thoughts for what I was talking about. He must have gotten to the “Off with their heads” part because his eyes widened, and he looked back to Father William.

  “You are right. Ignorance of the law is not a defense, but we ask for forgiveness.”

  I was shocked because I’d never heard polite and pleading coming from Hawk’s mouth before. He really did sound like he was sorry, which I knew from his thoughts he wasn’t.

  Father William seemed to accept the apology because he bowed his head slightly. “I am not the one to ask.”

  He stepped aside, and it took me a second to realize the beautiful woman walking toward us was indeed the red queen. She looked like some kind of fashion model with flawless pale skin and black hair pulled back into a pretty severe bun. The gown she was wearing looked like it was made of blood somehow transformed into cloth from the way it flowed around her. She had a scepter in her hand that could have been the taller cousin of Ruber, since it was carved from one single piece of ruby.

  There was no way she could be considered any less than fierce in my mind.

  “These are the violators,” Father William said as she stopped in front of us. “As you can see, one is the royal page.”

  At first I thought her eyes were dark brown as she looked from Hawk to Ruber to Milo, but when she locked gazes with me, I could tell they were as red as her dress. Instantly, my imagination morphed her into a vampire queen. But still fierce. I unconsciously rubbed my neck.

  She began to speak, and I held my breath as I waited for her to order our execution.

  “Welcome to Aponiviso, Prince Maragold. You have your mother’s eyes.” Hawk bowed to her, and I followed suit, grabbing at any hints as far as protocol when meeting fellow royalty. “Milo, these people are with you?”

  The white rabbit glanced over to Hawk and then to me, and I fully expected him to sell us out. Instead he nodded and said, “They requested a meeting with you, Your Majesty. I deemed it in your best interests to meet them.”

  She gave us one more look over and then nodded. “Very well. We shall listen to them.” She turned and gave Father William some kind of gesture with her hand as she began to walk away. “Then we can talk about execution for interrupting a royal game after that.”

  WHEN THE tone stopped, the choppers woke back up.

  Caerus faded away into an invisibility spell as she hovered near the ceiling. The clockwork warriors moved in an orderly fashion back into formation as if nothing had happened. If they had been thinking creatures, they would have at least remembered they had been pursuing something, but instead they lined up waiting for orders.

  That was when the sapphire figured out how the workshop security worked.

  Staying invisible, she f
lew back to the control panel and checked the tiles. She was not surprised to read:

  WORKSHOP-ALL CLEAR-STANDBY-RECHARGE

  Whatever alarm they had set off upstairs had been reset when the tone overrode it. She could hear the ticking behind the panel. The entire apparatus was run by moving gears. She dropped the invisibility spell and began to cast another spell. As soon as she became visible, the tiles began to move. Caerus could read the ALL CLEAR tile begin to switch to INTRUDER. She knew the second it fell the choppers would receive orders, and she would be in combat again. Channeling what energy she could spare, the gemling shouted “Inalgesco” at the control panel. A beam of pale blue light shot out and struck the tiles just as they began to turn.

  The panel froze solid.

  The ticking stopped and with it the humming sound that had been all around her. She waited to see if there was some kind of failsafe in place, but as seconds passed, she became convinced she had just turned off the workshop’s security. As long as the tiles were frozen, there was no way for the gears to move, activating the rest of the machines.

  Now that she had time, she flew across the room, looking for an exit from the lower levels. She discovered a door that was sealed shut. A keyhole was set into the middle of it, but she had no idea where the key could be. Nor did she have the inclination to look for it.

  Instead, she lashed out a beam of heat and began to burn a hole through the door large enough for her to float through. She had seen far more of the workshop than she desired.

  Coming down the hall, Ferra and Molly continued moving downward, wary for any sign of attack. Ferra glanced over to another set of doors that housed choppers and commented, “Machines or not, this whole place reeks of magic.”

  Perhaps her etiquette spring was not wound tight enough or maybe it was the pressure of being back in the workshop, but the clockwork girl stopped and turned on the barbarian. “You are made of ice. Living ice. How in the Nine Realms can that not be considered magic?”

  Ferra paused, shocked to hear such emotion come from Molly.

  “I mean, honestly, your God says that magic is bad, but you make spears of ice. It says love between the same gender is wrong, but obviously you were born that way. Have you considered that these rules aren’t dogma and are just the ramblings of some angry old men?”

  Ferra bit down the response that came to her lips and instead took a half step back. “My ice is a gift from Logos, not a perversion of magic, and no one said I was born any way. I know you’re upset about being here, but do not ever take the Lord’s name in vain.”

  Molly looked up at her, obviously ready to argue, when Caerus flew down the hall. “Are you two aware you’re yelling? I could hear you two floors down.” Neither woman responded, and the sapphire added, “I’ve disabled the security system for now, but we need to find what we came for sooner rather than later.”

  Ferra glanced at Molly. “You’re the one who knows where we are going,” she said, gesturing down the hall.

  “Fine,” the companion snapped, walking off without another word.

  “What’s going on?” Caerus asked Ferra as they followed, but the barbarian said nothing.

  “This is what’s wrong with emotion,” the gemling commented to herself as they followed Molly into the darkness.

  ATER HAD no idea how much time had passed.

  His last memory was Kor pulling an arrow on him, and now he was lying on a blanket with his pack as a pillow. Kor was sitting cross-legged in an indentation in the cave, tracing his fingers over the runes on his bow, his way of memorizing spells. When he noticed the dark elf was awake, he put the bow over his shoulder, and it obediently vanished.

  “There is some water next to you; truth spells can leave you dehydrated.”

  Ater said nothing as he reached for the canteen. The water was from the elven spring near Kor’s house, and just the taste of it brought back a score of memories long ago forgotten about growing up in Evermore. He resisted the instinct to spit the water out, knowing the memories wouldn’t be so easily banished. He took two large gulps before fastening the cap back on and placed the canteen back on the ground. “Why would you cast a truth spell on me?”

  Kor took the container and fastened it to his belt. “Because I needed to know what happened to Pullus, and I assume you’re resistant to the standard truth serums.”

  He stated it so matter-of-factly Ater had to admit it made a certain amount of sense. “So what did you discover?”

  The sorcellerie said nothing for a long time, mulling his next words carefully. “I discovered that my brother died saving a life, so I pray that puts him back in Koran’s good graces. I discovered that the changeling who has taken control of the capital sent a djinn out that was responsible for Pull’s death—” He paused and took a breath. “—and I discovered that you have a death wish and want someone to kill you.”

  Neither man said a word as the revelation of Ater’s suicidal desire sat there like the barrus in the room that it was.

  “Will you kill me?” Ater asked after a few minutes.

  Before Kor could answer, they heard the sound of footsteps on dried leaves outside the cave. Both elves got up silently, drawing their respective weapons. Kor gestured he would distract whatever it was while Ater made a run for it. It sounded like a horrible idea to the dark elf, but there wasn’t much room to debate the plan.

  Two guards from Evermore edged cautiously into the cave mouth.

  Kor pulled back his arrow, whispered “Telam,” and let it fly. Ater watched as the arrow turned from dark brown to almost ash white. The first elf saw the arrow but had no time to react before it exploded around him. The arrow expanded into a gigantic web, covering both intruders in gossamer-like strands. They began to struggle against it, but it solidified, freezing them in place as they cried out for help.

  Two more elves came rushing in, but Ater was already on it.

  With the hilts of his blades, he slammed each of them in the side of the head. Staggered, they tried to defend themselves, but it was no use; within seconds the dark elf had knocked them both out. Grabbing a length of rope out of his pack, he pulled them farther into the cave and tied them up.

  “You didn’t kill them,” Kor said, and it wasn’t a question.

  Ater didn’t pause in making sure the guards were secure. “I am an assassin, not a murderer. I kill for a reason, not for sport. You might want to find a way to gag those two,” he added, gesturing at the two guards still trapped in the web.

  Kor promptly launched an arrow at them with the incantation “Sopor.”

  Both guards passed out instantly.

  “We need to move,” Kor said, grabbing his pack. “It seems Nystel has figured out my intentions sooner than I expected.”

  “Your intentions?” Ater asked, confused. “All you have to do is kill me and it’s over.”

  “You’re going to help me find that changeling bastard. Then we’ll talk about you dying.”

  Ater paused. “You can’t kill him. You’d turn from the light.”

  Kor said nothing as he looked out the mouth of the cave. “Trust me, it’s complicated.” Before Ater could respond, he said, “Come on; let’s move” and headed out of the cave.

  Ater followed reluctantly, swearing he would do what he could to keep Pullus’s brother safe. From himself if need be.

  Chapter 5

  There is a fine art to negotiation.

  You start with finding something they want

  and then exploit the hell out of it.”

  Chief Belette

  Owner of the Kay Nine Food Company

  The Willows

  IT WAS pretty clear I was nowhere near Kansas anymore.

  Not like I had ever been in Kansas, but the saying seemed appropriate. A walking hatstand greeted us when we entered the castle and asked if it could take our coats. There wasn’t a mouth anywhere I could see; it just asked us. When we said no, it scurried past a chicken wearing a pair of what I imagine would be
a fashionable pair of pumps if I were poultry.

  And into pumps.

  “Mistress Demain,” it cluck-talked as it followed us into a rather impressive study, “I have a coalition from the unassigned that wishes to know what the official ruling of the game is.”

  The queen rolled her eyes and sat down behind a huge desk covered with stacks of papers. “For the love of all that is holy. The game was interrupted less than ten minutes ago. How could they already have a coalition?”

  The chicken stared at her for a few seconds. “They encountered a null pocket and used the time to form a list of grievances.”

  Though she was beautiful, Demain looked like she was exhausted. Almost under her breath, she said, “Leave it to my people to use the unraveling of our world as a way to find more time to complain.” To the chicken she said, “Tell them the game is considered called as a result of outside interference, and we will schedule another tomorrow.”

  The chicken bowed, which I think was her nodding. “They said if that was your decision, would their forms be offered up as compensation?”

  Demain looked over at us, and I felt like the question was a lot worse than it sounded. Not that it sounded bad—it sounded like a bunch of nonsense—but I’ve learned in my time here, nonsense usually means bad things all around. “Tell the coalition that the terms of the games will not be changed, and that the punishment for interrupting it will be handled privately, since it involves affairs of state.”

  Another bow from the chicken. “I’ll let them know, ma’am, but they won’t be pleased.”

  She gave the chicken a sideways glance and said, “Tell them to adjust their meds.”

  The secretary bowed-nodded her way out of the room, leaving us alone.

  “I’d warn you against ever taking the throne, but from what I hear, that might not be a choice for you.” She locked eyes with Hawk. “How’s the revolution going?”

  I was pissed. I mean, who the hell makes jokes at the expense of an entire species being attacked? My mouth had already opened to give her a piece of my mind when I felt Hawk hold me back mentally.