It was nearing dawn when Kayte twitched awake. Her night had not been restful and yet she did not feel tired. Her mind wandered back to her dream, but no sooner did she start recalling it, she pushed the images from her mind. It was the same dream as always, spawned by her fears and uncertainty for her own future. Her dream deaths were growing increasingly gruesome.
She stood and slowly pulled on her clothes in the dark. She slipped on a coat to keep herself warm in the early hours of the new spring day and left her room. She descended two flights of stairs and found herself walking past Aiyla’s room and then Markus’s, both of which were silent. She turned off the main corridor and wandered down another, at the end of which stood a pair of double doors, bolted. She motioned with her hand and a coil of green light flew out from her fingers. It spiraled through the keyhole and around the handles; a moment later, the doors sprang open. Beyond was the main balcony directly above the castle gates.
She enjoyed the serenity of near dawn and gazed out across the sleeping city, bathed in the palest moonlight. Te’Roek had been her home her entire life and she had lived in the castle for as long as she could remember. From the age of eight, Kayte had known that the gift lying dormant in her family had blossomed within her. She had spent countless hours in solitude trying to practice simple spells and incantations, concentrating with every ounce of her being. It took her only six months to produce her first ball of fire, a spell that quickly spread far beyond her control. She remembered the feeling of panic as she had tried in vain to suppress the unnatural fire. She had screamed for help and had attempted to stamp out the flames, but no matter what she tried, it had refused to abate. But then Markus Taal had arrived. Not taking his eyes off the young Kayte, he had made a grand sweeping motion with his arms and quenched the fire in an instant.
“I was wondering how long it would take,” he had said, smiling. “Would you like me to teach you how to control that wonderful gift of yours, my dear?”
Though twenty years had passed since that day, Kayte felt as though she still had much to learn. Varren’s power had been demonstrated when he had lured the gate wardens out from the safety of the castle and murdered them. Though she had read about mind control, the idea of it repeled her too much to want to try it on another. Yet Varren must have mastered it. If this was the man she was destined to face, how could she possibly prepare herself? Her dreams were filled with scenarios – Te’Roek city streets, the castle, a forest glen, a ruined house, the deck of a ship in a terrible storm – each with her failing to better him.
Again, she tried to push these thoughts away. She leaned out over the balustrade, listening to the quiet sound of the monastery bell tolling from the tower, a few calming notes lingering in the air. The bell rang softly each night but Kayte was ignorant of what it signaled; perhaps some ritual was about to begin or a new apprentice had been initiated. Emil would know.
The shaman was a great source of information. They had spent many years of their youth together. He had been very intelligent, even at twenty-one, and she had listened to his stories in awe, believing him to be the most learned man who had ever lived. His hair had been long and braided even in his younger days, but he had been clean-shaven then and his face free of the criss-crossing scars and lines of many years of service in the Circle. Kayte could remember clearly the first time Emil had attended a Circle meeting. The table in the meeting room had been much smaller then. Queen Zennia had sat at the head, Princess Sorcha on her right and Markus Taal on her left. Kayte had been placed next to Markus and Emil had taken the seat opposite her. He had lowered himself into the chair uncertainly and remained there for only a few minutes. But, curiously, he had risen and opted to stand behind his chair instead, and so it had been ever since, for ten long years.
“You don’t sit down in our meetings,” Kayte had pointed out later.
“Sitting makes me uneasy,” he had replied. “I can act faster on my feet.”
“You really expect something to happen in such a guarded fortress?”
“Anything can happen anywhere.”
Kayte smiled. They had been firm friends ever since, though most would not recognize their relationship as anything more than mutual respect. Emil remained distant and engaging him in conversation was as much a challenge now as it had ever been.
Withdrawing from the balcony, she motioned for the double doors to shut and lock with another coil of green light. She made her way to the courtyard and sat on a bench under the canopy of a great old oak, listening to the sounds of the wind rustling the new leaves and a solitary nightbird cooing in the branches above. Nobody was stirring in the castle yet; she could not even smell the scent of fresh bread from the kitchens.
Suddenly, there was an unfamiliar noise: a hiss, very low and quiet, but definitely not a trick of the wind. She focused on it, keeping perfectly still. There was movement between the shadowed columns that lined the courtyard and Kayte watched its progress. The figure walked slowly, hunched like an old man. She stood up quietly and ducked behind the trunk of a nearby tree, keeping the shape in sight. She watched as it passed across a pale shaft of moonlight. It was not human. It reached the stairs and paused, growling softly in its throat and sniffing deeply. Kayte crept across the grass, slid behind a column and then hurried to the next. She could smell the scent of strong magic and realized that only two people could control a creature such as this, and Angora was still missing.
*
Tiderius pulled on his boots in the darkness of his room. A loud bang had awoken him. He grabbed his surcoat on the way out, ran to the nearest staircase and leaped down the steps, fastening the cords at his front and adjusting his weapons belt. At the bottom, he rushed to the balustrade and looked down into the courtyard. Kayte flew into view, throwing balls of blue flame in the dappled moonlight below.
Tiderius took to the stairs again, moving as fast as he could, hastening to Queen Sorcha’s private chambers on the second floor. He reached the door and wrenched it open just as Markus Taal was emerging from his own room, looking utterly confused.
“Kayte’s down in the courtyard,” Tiderius said breathlessly. “There’s someone in the castle grounds.” Without waiting to hear what Markus might say in return, he dashed into the queen’s room, crossed the generous living space and stood in the doorway to her bedchambers. “Your Majesty?”
“What is happening?” the queen asked, flinging the covers off the large bed and reaching blindly for her dressing gown.
“Pardon my intrusion, but there’s someone in the castle,” Tiderius said.
“Is she safe?” Emil asked, rushing in with Markus at his heel.
“Quite,” Sorcha replied.
“Then we must hunt down the intruder.”
“I shall guard the queen,” Markus said, planting himself firmly in the doorway to the royal quarters. “Tiderius, with Emil. Go, now!”
The shaman nodded, turned and hurried out, Tiderius only a few steps behind him. At the stairs, he came to a skidding halt, seeing Aiyla hurrying toward him, still wearing her nightgown, her face white with fright.
“Tiderius!” she cried. “There are summoned creatures inside the castle!”
“That can only mean that Vrór is here!” he exclaimed and cursed loudly. “I have to get down there.”
When Tiderius reached the courtyard, he heard a loud growl to his left and instinctively ducked, dodging a barrage of blue flame hurtling his way from Kayte’s outstretched hands. He drew his sword and skirted around the wall, putting as much distance between the animal and himself as he could. There was another crack and flash as a flurry of tiny icicles flew at the animal from Emil’s sprayed fingers. A moment later, the creature uttered a strangled cry before disintegrating in an explosion of gold particles.
“They’re coming from the main entrance hall,” Kayte said.
“How many?” Tiderius asked as they crossed the courtyard together.
“I’ve killed two so far, and then that one. He keeps sending them out. Come on!”
When they entered the high-ceilinged entrance hall, two creatures darted out from an adjoining corridor and headed straight for them, teeth sharp and glistening with lethal saliva. Emil raised both arms and hurled a small tornado of churning air toward the first, knocking it back. Kayte flung balls of flickering flame at the second and, with cries of agony, the burning beast blasted apart.
Tiderius leaped forward, Anathris gleaming. He swung the blade at the first abomination as it tried to regain its footing. Blue fire rippled down the surface of the sword as he drove it into the beast’s flesh. A great eruption of sparks cascaded from the point of contact as the fiend bowed under the force of Tiderius’s attack.
“Where is that bastard?” he asked, glancing around as the summoning disintegrated. “He must be close. I can almost smell him.”
“So can I.”
The three of them turned in surprise. A figure moved out of the shadows and, as it drew closer, Tiderius’s eyes grew wide in disbelief.
“Angora! How – ”
“Aiyla,” she explained stiffly, holding up her staff, the decorative tip glowing slightly in readiness.
“Then she finally found you?” Tiderius asked.
“She found me almost at once but I made her promise not to tell you.”
“What!”
“A few hours ago, she contacted me and showed me flashes of a vision she had been sent, of Te’Roek in flames with Vrór’s creatures circling in the skies. Though I did not want to come, he is still my double and I must do my duty.”
“But where have you been?” Tiderius asked.
“North,” she replied bluntly, “helping the farmers prepare for the Ayon invasion. Where did you think I was?”
A high-pitched scream echoed around the entrance hall, followed by a deeper cry of pain. Angora hastened down a short corridor leading to one of the smaller rooms that adjoined the entrance hall, Tiderius, Emil and Kayte close behind her.
“Do not come too close,” Angora cried as they ran. “Even my own creatures could kill you if you were caught unawares.”
On the floor lay two crumpled figures. One of the gate wardens was dead but the second was desperately trying to rise to his feet, a hand clutching a wound in his chest. Across the room crouched a dark shape, ready to strike, and behind it was Vrór, crude staff in hand and a wide toothy smile on his beastly face.
Angora swung the tip of her staff around in a great circle then brought it down stiffly, the end pointing straight at the crouching creature’s head. An invisible force hurtled into the beast just as it sprang forward to attack the warden. It flew across the hall with a yelp and crashed into the wall. A second later, it disappeared in an explosion of red sparks. Vrór turned in surprise and caught sight of his opponent.
“Ah, you…” he said, grinning maliciously. “I’m surprised to sss see you here, back with those who made you flee so far and so fast.”
“What are you doing here?”
Vrór’s smile grew wider still. “Days have grown dull. When there is sss no war, I have to amuse myself with – ” he looked down at his two victims, “ – this.”
“Leave them alone!”
“But what could you possibly do to me if I refused?”
“You are my double. Fight me and only me!”
“Angora, wait – ”
“Ah! Shaman!” Vrór exclaimed catching a glimpse of Emil. “My masters have told me so much about you.”
“I expect they have,” Emil muttered, pushing past Angora to enter the large room. “You, Ayon, have entered Ronnesian territory. As a sworn enemy of this empire, your presence here is a death wish and we have every right to execute you on sight.”
“Get out!” Angora cried, pushing Emil back. “Leave him to me!”
Vrór swung his staff in a wide circle and an invisible force blew the shaman off his feet, but Emil spun in midair and landed safely, a spell already flickering around his fingers. Vrór had skirted the walls and was escaping through the doorway back into the entrance hall. He crossed it unnaturally fast and leaped out into the courtyard where the coming of dawn was just lighting the sky. There, he turned and faced them. Angora approached him first, with Tiderius a few yards behind. Both Emil and Kayte arrived a moment later, but hung back a little. Tiderius guessed they understood that he and Angora were better suited to deal with summoned creatures.
“Killing the ungifted is cowardly!” Angora shouted. “Stay your hand if you wish to live.”
“Your spells are useless against me!” Vrór hissed angrily.
“Trust me, both Emil and Kayte can bind your body to their will without having to touch you, Vrór. Within seconds, they could have you writhing in pain! Stand down! What you are doing proves only that you are too weak to face me!”
Vrór grinned and, with the slightest movement of his staff, sent an invisible force running across the courtyard stones. The ground disappeared from beneath Kayte’s feet. She flew backward and hit one of the marble columns with a dull thud. The dazed sorceress slid down onto the cobbled ground, leaving a smear of blood.
“Kayte!” Emil cried and hastened to her side.
“You snake!” Angora shouted, springing angrily into a full summoning.
“At last!” Vrór gripped his own weapon. The two leikas held their staffs above their heads and braced themselves as bursts of light erupted from the tips. A great eagle burst forth from Angora’s and took shape as its wings unfurled and caught the air. A haladrai – the creature Angora had worked for three years to conjure perfectly. From Vrór’s staff came two black terrors of the wing with the heads of raptors but the bodies of fierce mountain lions. From their beaks came ear-piercing screeches unlike anything Tiderius had heard before.
He looked up in awe and terror as Angora’s eagle landed beside its mistress, talons digging into the soft grass. Angora climbed quickly upon its back, her staff in one hand, the other clasping a handful of feathers between the beast’s wings.
“I will draw him away!” she shouted and flattened herself against the eagle’s feathers.
As she rose from the ground, Tiderius saw Vrór leap onto the back of one of his griffins. Grasping its fur, he gave a loud cry and the beast sprang into the air in pursuit of the haladrai. In a moment, they were lost from sight.
*
Angora flew hard and fast over the still slumbering city of Te’Roek. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the two griffins gaining on her, Vrór on the back of the closest one. Soon they were out of sight of the capital, surrounded by the peaks of the Kirofirth Ranges. Angora focused all her strength on keeping hold of her staff, and urged her eagle to fly faster. She clutched its feathers and directed it around the peaks in sharp banks and dives, but still Vrór followed.
Knowing she could not outrun him, she took in a deep breath and turned her haladrai about. Within seconds, Vrór’s two terrors were upon them, their claws sharp and ominous. They swooped, aiming for her haladrai’s eyes and emitting piercing screeches, almost deafening her. Though the griffins were greatly dwarfed by the eagle, their sharp claws ripped at its feathers and their mean, hooked beaks struck at its face.
Angora fought to maintain control of her mount and angled it into a sharp turn. The eagle lunged at the griffins, its beak snapping and talons ripping. One beast flew over Angora’s head and she pointed her staff in its direction, shooting an incomplete summoning at its feathers, igniting them.
Then the other came swooping at her, the one that bore Vrór himself, and before she could take evasive action, a claw hooked into her back, ripping into her skin. She screamed in agony and hunched over, burying her face into the eagle’s feathers. But the pain was like nothing she had ever experienced – it felt as though her very skin was liquid fire. She clutched at her back, desperately clinging to her summoning with her legs. Then Vrór swooped again, and she felt her hold on the eagle’s feathers slip as she waved her staff to ward him off. The eagle dived out of the way of another attack and Angora desperately tightened her fingers before she was thrown from her perch.
Controlling the eagle with her thoughts alone, she quickly pulled it up out of its dive. Her respite was brief, however, for Vrór and his beasts were quick to return. One, feathers still smoldering, launched itself into the eagle’s side. Angora’s creature twisted and lunged at the burning griffin, tearing off shreds of its magical hide. Vrór quickly retaliated, bringing his mount around to dive upon the eagle.
Shrieking, the haladrai plummeted once more, spiraling out of control, its left wing beating almost without effect. Angora lost her grip on its feathers. She fell, frantically calling out to the eagle, but the griffins swooped around its head, slowing it in its attempt to rescue her. Angora tried to summon another creature to halt her fall but she could not focus, and the speed of her descent made performing the movements of the spell impossible.
The mountains rushed up to meet her. She felt a surge in her staff as her eagle died in an explosion of pain and knew then that she was going to die. Twisting her head, she saw the distant shapes of the griffins chasing after her, wings folded.
Spirits, do not let them catch me, she begged before her sight began to waver, leaving her in darkness.