PROLOGUE
BETRAYAL
The floor beneath the two men creaked ominously as they crept down the deserted hallway, each step a potential betrayal of their presence. Despite their expertise, the fear of discovery loomed large. They froze momentarily, ears straining for any hint of approaching danger. Guard patrols in this part of the palace were unpredictable, adding to the tension.
“A harvest moon—this is the worst night for breaking into his study, Cidel,” the taller man whispered, his voice barely audible.
“No choice, Jon,” Cidel replied, his tone resigned. “It wasn’t my choosing.”
Outside, the full moon’s light streamed through the mosaic windows, casting intricate patterns that seemed to conspire against them, leaving scant shadows for concealment. Assured that their presence remained undetected, the two men pressed on, urgency driving them to sacrifice stealth for speed.
Cidel understood that the infrequency of patrols didn’t lessen the risk of discovery; if anything, it heightened it, forcing them to rely on luck.
“Are you sure it’s going to be there?” Jon asked, doubt creeping into his voice.
“I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” Cidel assured him.
With cautious steps, they neared their destination. Jon retrieved his amulet, focusing intently on the reinforced oak door. The Sudin amulet glowed faintly, then a soft click signaled the successful unbolting of the door. Though unlocking doors wasn’t the amulet’s most impressive trick, it had proven invaluable. They slipped inside the study, immediately sifting through the piles of books that cluttered the room.
“Look for a tan book with silver trim,” Cidel instructed.
Jon’s face twisted into a sarcastic grin. “My amulet glows yellow; all the books look gray to me.”
Cidel chuckled. “Then look for its name.”
“What do you think I’m doing? Tend to yourself,” Jon retorted, pausing before adding, “Are you still sure about this? This feels like thievery.”
“Yes, she gave me the orders directly. I’m not entirely okay with what we’re doing, but they were her orders,” Cidel replied with a hint of reluctance.
“If anyone else had asked me, Cidel, I would have said no.”
“If anyone other than she had asked me, we wouldn’t be here, as I too would have said no,” Cidel concurred.
Reassured, Jon continued his search. Outside, the bell tolled, marking the new hour. “Four bells until dawn,” Cidel noted, though it was obvious to them both.
They were only halfway through their search when the third bell rang. “We’re running out of time. The sun will be out soon,” Jon warned.
Cidel knew Jon was right. They were in trouble and needed to take a risk. He began whispering an incantation.
Jon looked over, alarmed. “What are you doing? That’s surely going to give us away!”
“You said it yourself; we’re running out of time. I don’t see another option.” As Cidel finished the spell, his crystal glowed a brilliant white, overshadowing Jon’s yellow crystal.
“Very brazen,” Jon said nervously.
With the enhanced lighting, they tore through the room at a much quicker pace. Within minutes, the distinctive book stood out among the others.
“Jon, I found it. Let’s go.” They subdued their crystals, which faded back to ordinary stones.
As they exited the wizard’s chamber, the alarm bell sounded. Their presence had been detected, and guards would soon be upon them.
“Well, they know we’re here!” Jon exclaimed.
“Very keen, Jon,” Cidel replied, matching his earlier sarcasm.
“They don’t have to know there are two of us. I’ll lead them off; you just get back to your post.” Cidel peered around a corner. “All clear.”
“I would never make it back without being questioned. We’re in this together now,” Jon insisted.
“I’m really sorry I got you involved,” Cidel whispered over his shoulder.
“You are duty-sworn; we both are. I just hope that we don’t jeopardize the others.” Jon followed closely behind Cidel.
As they approached the more patrolled areas of the castle, they picked up speed, racing through the hallways. A guard surprised them around a corner, and Jon struck him, breaking his nose and sending him sprawling backward. The soldier crashed into a table, shattering a large, gold-trimmed vase.
Jon recognized the soldier. “I’m not killing anyone to help us escape. These are good men, and many are my friends.”
“They are my friends too, Jon, and I would never ask you to do something against our principles, well, other than this.” He laughed as he said the last part. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” Together, they continued to run toward the stables.
When they arrived, Cidel was surprised to see their horses waiting. “You involved others?”
“Only Creese, nobody else. He’ll be responding to the alarm now.” Cidel glanced back; they were well ahead of the soldiers. We’re going to make it, he thought, anxiety turning to excitement. More guards responded to the alarms, but they had made it. No one would catch them now.
“Lead my horse, Jon. Stick to the edge of the bailey, and I’ll raise the portcullis!”
Jon untethered the horses and climbed into his saddle, holding the reins of Cidel’s horse tightly. It would be a foul time for it to get spooked, as they had no time to chase a runaway. Guarding the portcullis had been Jon and Creese’s post that night.
Cidel worked the levers, causing the counterweights to fall, and the gate began to rise. He jumped down from the small tower onto the back of his horse. As they emerged from the gate tunnel, what awaited them was unexpected.
Queen Arleale stood front and center, a small army behind her. The two Sudin, both confused, dismounted.
A man they had initially missed, outfitted in black leather, yelled insolently at the queen. “So much for surprise, a year of planning probably ruined.”
As the insolent man walked past, Jon grabbed him, spinning him around. “How dare you take that tone with Her Majesty!”
As fast as the man turned, his dagger moved faster, appearing as if from nowhere. He thrust the dagger into Jon, leaving it fully impaled as he continued walking.
Jon clutched the dagger protruding from his chest and dropped to his knees.
Cidel rushed to his side.
Jon struggled to cling to Cidel for support, but weakness overtook him, and he fell to his side. Weakly, he whispered, “I don’t understand, what’s happening, Cidel?”
Cidel lifted Jon, holding him tightly. At first, a wave of shock washed over him, leaving him momentarily stunned. Confusion clouded his thoughts as he tried to process what had happened. But as the reality set in, the shock gave way to anger, simmering beneath the surface. Someone was going to pay, he thought, as anger gradually transformed into hatred—and then into a burning desire for revenge. It consumed him like a raging fire, and the only thought that filled his mind at that moment was her.
Behind him, the queen started laughing. “I had expected so much more from you; you are supposed to be elite. I’m quite disappointed.”
Cidel, whose back had been to the queen, turned to face her. He just looked at her, his revulsion darkening his hatred even more. The Queen removed the robe she wore and handed it to a wizard who had come to stand next to her.
Cidel and Jon recognized the wizard—a Keeper, as they were called here in Ferwersrun.
“It’s too bad I can’t keep this. It has been so useful.” As she let go of the robe, her figure shimmered slightly before the illusion dropped. The woman who stood before them was not Queen Arleale. “The prince is in the south tower,” she said to the Keeper.
The Keeper, expressionless, departed.
The woman turned to the next closest soldier standing next to her. “Captain Jesar, take your company and go with the Keeper.”
“Yes, Serel!” he replied.
“How?” Cidel asked.
“How did we fool your precious crystals? Honestly, I don’t know, nor do I care. Keeper tricks.”
Cidel glanced down at his friend, his heart heavy with a mix of sorrow and fury, before turning his gaze to the woman, Serel. His voice trembled with raw emotion as he declared, “I am going to kill you!” The words were laced with a deep-seated rage and a profound sense of betrayal, each syllable echoing the turmoil within him.
“Maybe,” she motioned to her remaining men to come forward.
Jon pulled his amulet off from around his neck. “Give it to the priests. It wasn’t your fault, Cidel. They need to know we were deceived.”
Cidel took the amulet and stood to face Serel. She seemed unworried as she ordered her men to kill him. But as they rushed towards Cidel, he unsheathed his sword so swiftly that the soldiers charging barely caught the few flashes of his blade in the moonlight. The men she had sent seemed to fall as they were running, landing next to Jon, dead.
Serel’s confident facade wavered, a flicker of genuine concern crossing her features. “Ah, now that’s the spirit!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with a newfound respect. “I might even reconsider my earlier disappointment. Your swordsmanship is truly remarkable, a dazzling display of skill. Yet, it’s such a shame,” she added, her tone darkening, “that it won’t be enough to save you.”
She raised her hand, index finger extended, signaling more mercenaries behind her.
They raised their crossbows and fired.
Cidel deftly blocked the oncoming arrows, his movements a blur of precision and agility. Yet, as the relentless barrage continued, fatigue began to weigh heavily on him, slowing his once-fluid motions. His muscles ached, and his breath came in ragged gasps. In a moment of exhaustion, his guard faltered, allowing an arrow to pierce his right arm just below the shoulder blade, sending a jolt of pain through his body. Another arrow found its mark in his thigh, the sharp agony forcing him to drop to one knee. Gritting his teeth, Cidel struggled to his feet, steeling himself for the next wave, determination etched on his face despite the mounting injuries.
Jon, using the last of his strength, grabbed Cidel’s leg. “There will be another day, Cidel—flee!”
“I can’t leave you here to die alone,” he said to his friend.
“I’m already dead!” Jon gasped, his voice a strained whisper as he lay on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. His breaths were shallow and labored, each one a struggle against the searing pain from the deep stab. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth; his skin was pale, a cold sweat glistening on his brow as his body fought a losing battle. “Now go!” he urged, his eyes filled with a desperate urgency, knowing his time was slipping away with each passing second.
Torn between his fierce loyalty to his friend and the pressing need to confront Serel, Cidel hesitated, his heart wrenched in two directions. His grip on the sword faltered, and it slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground. His eyes, filled with conflict and determination, locked onto Serel’s. With a trembling hand, he reached for his amulet, which flared brilliantly to life, casting its radiant glow.
“Get him, quickly! He’s using his magic!” Serel screamed, her voice tinged with urgency and fear as she realized her men were powerless to halt the impending threat. Desperation etched across her face, she reached for one of her daggers, hurling it with precision. Cidel, high on adrenaline, caught the blade mid-flight and sent it back with deadly accuracy, grazing Serel’s right cheek and leaving a thin line of crimson. The soldiers, in a frantic attempt to stop him, unleashed a second volley of crossbow bolts. But in that critical moment, the power within Cidel’s crystal surged to its peak. He shimmered with an ethereal glow, and with a muffled crackle, he vanished, leaving only a whisper of energy in his wake.
“You didn’t see that coming, did you, you dirty wretch!” The last words Jon got out before he died. A slight smirk remained frozen on his face.
“Rot balls!” yelled Serel. She grabbed the man closest to her and threw him to the ground, kicking him. “Droh’s going to be furious.” She paced a moment. “Check their bags. See if they found the book.”
The guards rifled through the saddles on the horses. The book, having been hastily thrown in, was found quickly.
“Thank the fates, at least something went right.” She took the book from the soldier. On the front, it simply read: Danhain Ancestry.
* * *
Droh’s men crowded around him like human shields, surrounding him as he made his way to King Danhain’s wing. Palace guards were starting to close in on their party. Spotting them and knowing what was about to happen, Droh grabbed one of the men guarding him and held him still, preventing him from ducking. Several palace arrows struck his chest.
Droh dropped the dead man and summoned his magic. He felt the electricity begin to build. The palace guards were just barely knocking their next arrows when he released the static charge. The current arced as it emitted from his hands, striking his attackers. The three closest defenders collapsed, dead from the attack. In the confusion, Droh’s remaining men charged forward and began to engage the rest in close combat. Droh continued striking down the guards while continuing his advance, slowly. The two sides traded losses, with Droh losing more men as they approached the stairs.
“Keep pushing forward. Take the king, and we take the palace.” Reaching the foot of the stairs, Droh studied the winding steps that led to the royal wing, the corridor narrowed significantly by design, to be easily defendable from the top. Several of Droh’s men came rolling back down, filled with arrows that protruded from just about all body parts.
“Well, we are not going to ascend the stairs that way. Stand back!” Droh shouted, growing impatient with his men.
Droh’s men backed away from the stairs.
Keeper Velsive, having just caught up to Droh, could tell his men were pinned down. He walked to where Droh stood. “Status?”
“Curved stairs. Narrowed for easy defense. Several defenders at the top, and they are picking my men off before they can get midway to the top.”
“I see. Stand aside.” Keeper Velsive walked to the base of the stairs. “Get your men ready,” he said to Droh.
Keeper Velsive’s words were but a whisper, but Droh knew what was coming. It was a powerful spell, one that was beyond his skills. The Keeper was drawing fire. The fire appeared, wild and seemingly out of control, but the Keeper bent the flame to his will, and it retracted into a powerful ball. The Keeper pulled his hands back slightly, then pushed them forward, releasing the spell. The ball of fire expanded, filling the entire stairwell as it traveled upwards. The walls became black with soot where the fire traveled.
“Go! Go now before they recover!” Droh shouted.
His soldiers raced up the stairs following the wall of flame. At the top, the castle guard were all wounded or dead, and all still on fire. Droh’s men made quick work of them; it was almost merciful, had they not planned on killing them anyway. Droh and Keeper Velsive pushed the dead guards out of their way. Their men now began filling the halls. Droh surveyed the situation. The stairs emptied into the middle of a hallway. Looking both directions, the halls both turned sharply. “I’m sure they wait for us around the turns.” Droh watched as the Keeper continued his own assessment of their situation. “To the right is the king’s chamber, to the left, the castle wizard and the prince,” the prince being the only reason the Keepers were truly there, but not Droh’s only reason. Droh wanted this castle; it was said to have been unconquerable. Yet here he stood. Gloating. Droh divided the men, sending what he felt was more than an adequate number of disposables, a derogative term he used for those beneath him, with Keeper Velsive.
“The prince should be down at the very end. This is the only way out. He won’t be alone. Odefel, the king’s wizard, is that way too. I’ve heard he is powerful,” Droh warned Keeper Velsive.
“For your kind, I’m sure, he won’t prove much of a problem for me,” the Keeper responded arrogantly.
Droh’s nose crinkled, and his lips began to form into a snarl at the dismissive tone. He turned quickly in the opposite direction before the Keeper took notice. Spotting Jesar coming up the stairwell they had just secured, he let his care of the Keeper wane and instead focused his attention back on his mission. “Captain Jesar.”
Captain Jesar turned towards Droh, saluting. “Yes, sire?”
“The king’s wing will be heavily guarded. Bring your men and follow me but send two men to observe and report back on the Keeper’s progress.”
Jesar nodded. “Right away!” He turned to his men. “Creg, follow the Keeper, observe and report back. Understand?” He watched his second in command only briefly before turning his attention towards the king’s wing and beginning his advancement.
Creg took position next to the Keeper. “Are we here to kill the prince?”
The Keeper let out a hearty laugh at the question. “It would certainly be entertaining to see you try, but no, I want him alive if possible.”
Creg’s face reddened, taking offense at the suggestion that his men were incapable of dispatching a small boy.
Droh approached the first turn, a light glance around the corner resulting in a frenzy of arrows. Droh watched them shatter against the stone wall. He looked sternly at Jesar. “I need the king, queen, and princess alive. Anyone who harms a member of the royal family, I will personally torture to death! Understood?”
Jesar nodded affirmatively.
“Good, now lead your men!”
* * *
King Danhain the Second stood outside his chamber. He thought about his son Panor briefly, taking slight comfort that Odefel was protecting him. He pushed his concerns for his son aside; he and his men were the only thing that stood between their attackers and his wife and daughter.
“Have courage,” Danhain said, the strength of his conviction giving hope to his men. “Our bodies here are but an anchor. If we fall, we shall simply move on to a much-deserving place where you shall be rewarded for your bravery, so fear not your death; instead, strike fear into those whose purpose does not bring them honor, for their place shall be at your feet in the afterlife.”
* * *
Cidel appeared without warning in the Crystal Chamber, beneath the castle in Elisium. Several priests, initially startled at his appearance, but seeing the arrows sticking out of him, rushed to render aid.
“Get the healers,” one of them shouted to a lesser acolyte.
Three others grabbed Cidel, and together they carried him up the long winding stairs. Two green Sudin at the top quickly moved to help the priests who were having difficulty carrying Cidel. At the top of the stairwell, healers were already gathering. They delivered him into the closest room and began stripping away his clothing. Hearing the news, the queen was not very far behind.
“What happened?” Queen Arleale looked at Cidel, who lay on a bed unconscious. Blood spurted from his leg.
“Get a tourniquet on that until we can heal it!” one of the priests shouted.
A priest that the queen did not recognize, who had helped bring Cidel up from the chamber, answered, “We don’t know, Your Majesty. He suddenly appeared out of thin air. We didn’t even know that was possible. I mean, in theory, we knew, but it has never been done.”
“Did he say anything?”
“One word, treachery, and he had this on him.” The priest handed Jon’s amulet to the queen.
The queen felt a dark pit in her stomach, and nausea quickly followed.
“That’s not the only thing.” The priest opened his other hand, revealing Cidel’s amulet. He whispered something in ancient Venern, the queen recognized the unmasking invocation. Instead of his crystal flaring to life with the brilliant white she expected, it could barely even glow. Dark and ugly the stone had turned.
Taken slightly aback, she looked at the stone and then to Cidel. “Impossible.”
“Rare, yes, impossible, no,” the priest replied.
“It is impossible for him! He—he is a white crystal bearer! My trust in him absolute!” The Queen exclaimed.
“We should put guards on his door until we can question him.”
“No! Absolutely not. He will not be treated any less than the honorable man we know him to be. We will find out what happened, and even then, he will still be treated respectfully! Do you understand me?” she demanded.
“It will be as you command, my queen.” He bowed formally.
“Leave his crystal with him. He will not wake without it; he will keep it until we have the facts.”
“Dull or not, its power remains.” The unrecognized priest reminded her.
“I understand, but my decision stands!” She turned to the healers who were finishing up. “Will he live?”
“He has lost a lot of blood. I suspect he is going to be unconscious for more than a few days, but something strong wills him to live; he fights.”
“Thank you. You all did tremendously well. I will tend to him now. I wish to be alone but post a healer outside at all times in case of further need.”
The priests bowed and left. She sat beside him and brushed her fingers through his hair. “Oh, my love, what happened to you,” she whispered. “I believe in you; I will not accept the alternative. I know you would never betray me; you would never betray us!”
Queen Arleale thought she saw his lips briefly twist into a smile at the sound of her voice. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek before standing. Looking about the room, she clumsily pulled a sofa across the floor. Holding his hand, she wept herself to sleep.
* * *
The morning of the third day, the priests entered the chamber, still not expecting Cidel to be awake. But when they entered, Queen Arleale was sitting on the bed alone. In her hands, she held a note.
“Where’s Cidel, my queen?” one of the priests asked.
“Gone, in the middle of the night while I slept.”
“He’s still extremely weak; shall I send out a search party? I’m sure he has not gotten very far in his condition.” He set the tray of food on the bed table.
“No, let him go,” she stood and handed the note to the priest and left as he read.
Scribbled on the parchment:
My queen, Jon gave his life honorably; remember not the sadness of his death but the joys of his life. Like my crystal, my soul has become dark, consumed with revenge. I can think of nothing but finding those who killed him. Be warned, something dangerous is taking place in Ferwersrun, Keepers are involved! I have let the kingdom down; I have let you down. I pray that you understand and will forgive me. – Cidel.