CHAPTER 49

King Damien sat on his cold throne, fingers tapping together in front of him. He looked as calm and shrewd as always, but this was just a facade for the frantic thoughts racing through his mind. He could not let Adwin win.

He had gone out to examine the shimmering curtain of light that had sprung up when his guards so foolishly tried to kill Adwin. He knew very well that his old enemy wasn’t really gone. So what was this wall of magic? Returning scouts informed him that it encircled the entire mountain. They said it felt like glass when they pushed, but it would not break no matter what they tried. There was no getting out.

He hated feeling trapped. He looked up and down the translucent waves. Citizens of the mountain were gathering outside, whispering behind hands and eyeing their king. He didn’t dare touch the wall, lest they see his inability to break through the barrier. Not wanting witnesses to his helplessness, he strolled with calculated casualness up the streets toward home.

When he arrived back at the palace, internally fuming, he went straight to the throne room and burst through the red curtain. He looked at each of the four faces. His grandchildren. His heirs. His enemies.

Adwin had Tovi, and Damien guessed that Tali was with them as well. Was it possible that Lena survived just like the twins? Did Adwin have her in his clutches, too? Three of the conquerors gathered by Adwin was a dangerous thought. Three of his grandchildren. What a shocking turn of events.

That left only Jairus under Damien’s control. He weighed his options. If only he could trust the lad, this would be so much easier. With his careless disregard for power and control, Jairus was too likely to be won over by manipulative Adwin. It would be better to take all necessary precautions.

Prison or death for the boy? Memories of Jairus as a little one came to his mind. A sweet face, a childish giggle. His little feet padding down the hallway, chasing his sister Lena. He pushed those thoughts aside and refused to let himself be hindered by emotion.

He looked intently at the faces in the mural. Unfortunately, Tovi had proven that his prison was not nearly secure enough. If Adwin could get her out, he surely could take Jairus as well. Then Adwin might have the full set. This could not be.

He left the secret corridor and summoned a butler. “Bring Jairus to me. And keep Ajax away from here. I don’t care what you tell him, just make sure he is nowhere close to this room while I speak to my grandson.”

He returned to his throne and brought his fingers together in front of his face, tapping them together one at a time. It would hurt his muddied heart to do away with the boy, but it must be done. He must do it himself to avoid another mistake. And the quicker the better.

Jairus’ death would ensure that the prophecy could not come to fruition. With one of the usurpers dead, it could not be.

Nearly an hour ticked by. Finally, someone entered, but it was not the butler who had left to find Jairus. It was a guard from the prison.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” he said, his face pale and sweaty. “I bring news from the dungeon.”

“Go on.”

“Another prisoner has escaped, Your Majesty. We don’t know when it happened. We have not left our post.”

Fury sped through his body. How many times must they search that prison for the way out? How many times must he replace his guards?

“Who was the prisoner?” he asked, not bothering to hide his anger.

“Master Xanthe,” the man replied, unable to maintain eye contact with the king. He looked at the floor, and his hands shook.

Damien stared at the guard while his mind raced. Before he could recover himself, his butler returned. “Where have you been, and where is Jairus?” Damien bellowed, the veins in his eyes dark and pulsing.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. We have searched throughout the palace. Prince Jairus is not here.”

Just then another guard entered the room. “Your Majesty, I’m sorry to interrupt you. There is something you must know.”

Damien’s head was already spinning. Xanthe gone. Jairus gone. He looked at the guard. What else could there be?

“The house in the Bottom Rung, the one with the green sign. No one was there. It was empty, Your Majesty.”

“Everyone out!” he screamed, his jaw quivering and his chest throbbing with pain. “Out! Get out!” They ran for the door to save themselves from his fury.

He ripped the red curtain off the wall and threw it to the ground. He walked with fast heavy strides to the scene he hated. The conquerors. What if the blonde in the mural was really Xanthe? He had always counted on them being his grandchildren, including Lena. But now Tovi, Jairus, and Xanthe disappear on the same day. And the rebels who thought their existence was hidden disappear as well.

The army. The army following the conquerors. It all clicked in his mind. Adwin had the four conquerors and an army. The end was coming. He must stop it.

He found Adwin’s face and stared at it.

Like a maniac who didn’t know he was speaking to paint and not a real man, Damien shouted, “So, you have them, do you? You have the conquerors gathered all together, ready to lead the army. You cleared them out of that rat hole in the Bottom Rung.” Black spit sprayed on the mural as he became more and more agitated. “Where are you hiding them, Adwin? You can’t hide them forever! They can’t get through your glass curtain, so it is only a matter of time before I find them and kill every last one of them.

“It is no longer a game, old friend. This is war.”