Echoes Of A Gloried Past (Book 2) (25 page)

“Thank you, my Lord. Do you need me to help clean up? I would be happy to do that for you, my Lord, but please, I could do with some more light.” The old woman said and began to shuffle toward the windows. 

The Elitesman’s contemptuous gaze swept the three of them. “There is no hope for you. Your friends will never be able to get to you here.” 

Verona’s heightened senses saw as the blade began its decent. At the same moment, he let the shield go and thrust outward, pushing with all his might, sending a shaft of energy that erupted from his outstretched hand. The Elitesman was knocked backwards off his feet.

The window’s wooden shutters burst forth with a blinding white light that blazed from a distance into the night sky, startling them all. The room was still for a moment, and Verona stood with his mouth agape, staring at the Alenzar’seth coat of arms emblazoned upon the night sky.

Aaron!

Verona launched himself across the room and grabbed a ragged spike from the table. His eyes never left the Elitesman as he charged, feeling the energy burn inside as the room blurred around him. He planted the spike into the chest of the Elitesman Sevan.

Two flashes of golden light lit up the room, and the two Elitesmen at the door fell in a heap. Verona turned from his crouch over the dying Elitesman, to see that Gavril was free and held some kind of device out from his hands. Sarik and Roselyn were at his side.

Verona turned back to the dying Elitesmen who glared back with a crazed loathing as blood frothed in his mouth. Verona grabbed the Elitesman by the shirt and twisted the spike in his chest, growling as he did. The Elitesman cried out in pain.

“I can never hurt you enough Elitesman,” Verona hissed.

“You think you’re free,” the Elitesman said, spitting up blood. “You will never be free of me. I will haunt your dreams long after I’m gone.” The Elitesman said in a gurgled sigh, and his face froze with hatred as the life drained out of him.

***

Despite himself, Mactar watched as the battle in the arena unfolded before him. The Alenzar’seth’s strength was growing in leaps and bounds. He would soon be a match for the High King, if he wasn’t already. The patrons that were not scrambling to leave gasped and cried out as a mighty roar thundered over their heads. The arena was bathed in the golden brilliance of the biggest dragon he had ever seen, appearing as if by magic after the beacon of Shandara pierced the night.

An Eldarin dragon?

Mactar’s mind struggled with the truth appearing before his eyes. What trickery was this? The dragons were all but gone from Safanar. The beacon of Shandara blazed through the night sky and then melted away, taking him back all those years ago to the very night that Shandara fell. The great city burned with an unquenchable fire that spread hungrily, devouring anything in its path. The night echoed of countless voices crying out, trapped amid the flames. There had been no beacon then, nor answering call.
This must be a trick.

His gaze fell once again upon Aaron, who retrieved his staff as the dragon scattered the witless Elitesmen into disarray. Clearly, the Elitesmen believed a dragon was in their midst. Could it be? He dismissed the thought as soon as it occurred. No one had the ability to summon dragons. Rordan stood poised with his hand clenched upon the hilt of his sword. Mactar looked back at Reymius’s heir, who was now facing the Eldarin, and something unspoken appeared to pass between them before they both went their separate ways.

Rordan turned to him and said, “He can speak with dragons?”

Mactar shook his head. “This is a trick. The Eldarin dragons are all gone. They have faded into myth.”

"Deny the truth at your own folly, Mactar."
The voice of Tarimus hissed faintly.

Darven appeared by his side. “My Lord.”

Mactar narrowed his gaze at the appearance of Darven, taking it in before asking any questions. His appearance was unkempt and his cloak in tatters.

“How did you find him in the city?” Mactar asked.

“Who?” Rordan asked and then said, “You knew the Alenzar’seth was in the city?”

Darven nodded. “Quite by accident I assure you. It took every shred of knowledge I had to elude him and quite a bit of luck, I’m afraid. He’s more acutely in tune with the binding forces around us. It is like nothing I’ve ever seen. I managed to send word to Gerric shortly before nightfall, hence the appearance of so many Elitesmen.”

Mactar nodded. “You’ve done well. We will be leaving soon.”

Rordan’s mouth hung open. “Leaving? You can’t leave.”

Mactar’s mouth lifted into a mirthless grin. “I’m quite certain I can leave, my Lord Prince.”

“Aren’t you going to go after him?” Rordan asked.

“What for? He’s not after me. At least not yet, and I have pressing business elsewhere. Surely, the Elitesmen will be able to handle one lone Shandarian,” Mactar said somewhat aloof and nodded for Darven to follow.

“I think you’re wrong,” Rordan said. “I’m going after him. There must be a reason why he’s here in Khamearra, and I intend to find out what it is.”

Mactar nodded. “That you should, my Lord.”

Rordan stalked off into the fleeing crowd, and Mactar wondered if he would ever see the young prince alive again. Should Rordan throw himself at Aaron, Mactar knew who would receive the shorter end of that particular stick.

“We’re really not going after Aaron?” Darven asked.

“I would like to know why he’s here,” Mactar said, “but at the same time I’m happy for the Elitesmen and the High King to contend with him for the moment. If Aaron is preoccupied here then others will be slower to rally to his call, and we need some time to help us prepare.” The advantage of controlling the Ryakuls was too much of an opportunity to pass up and would give him something else to leverage against whoever rallied to the fallen Shandara banner.

***

A hand gently pressed upon his shoulder, and only when Verona turned around did he realize that he was still gripping the spike in the dead Elitesman’s chest. He unclenched his grip, and Roselyn pulled him to his feet. They searched the bodies of the Elitesmen, taking what weapons they could.

The beacon winked out, drawing their attention to the windows.

“That was Aaron,” Sarik said. “Do you think he … ”

“No,” Verona said quickly.

Gavril walked over to the window. “Look at the city.”

They were high up in one of the towers within the Citadel of the Elite. The orange glow of fires could be seen throughout the city. The blaze seemed to be concentrated at key locations and not spreading to the other buildings. A thunderous sound rocked the ground beneath their feet, and the sky lit up near them in a blaze of angry red flames.

“That was close,” Verona said.

“That was Tanneth,” Gavril smiled grimly and went to the table to retrieve the comms device that the Elitesmen had taken earlier. “They are coming. We should head out. Tanneth has more surprises in store for the Elitesmen,” Gavril said while his eyes darted across the small screen.

Verona nodded. “Let’s go,” he said and motioned for Sarik to guide the old woman, who was muttering to herself.

Together, they emerged into an empty hallway, and Verona grabbed one of the orbs and threw it on the ground, setting the room ablaze. Verona took point. They could hear men shouting throughout the tower and moved cautiously down the hall. Verona kept the Elitesman’s blade ready, but he itched to be rid of it, not wanting the taint of anything to do with the Elitesman Sevan to touch his skin.

You will never be free of me.

Verona banished the Elitesman’s last words from his mind and moved forward. They came to a stairwell and began to descend when they heard a commotion below them. The ring of steel upon steel could be heard, and Verona’s pace quickened when he heard Braden’s De’anjard battle cry.

Verona and the others took the steps two at a time until they came to an open landing where they found Braden swinging a large steel hammer in one hand and the shield of the De’anjard in the other. Braden fought with two other men. One of whom he recognized as the district captain they had spied upon earlier. The other man he didn’t recognize at all. 

Gavril unleashed more blasts of energy from the device in his hand, felling more Elitesmen, earning him wary glances from Braden and the others.

“Braden!” Verona called.

Braden smiled in greeting, but Verona noted that the smile did not reach his eyes. 

“Verona, all of you? Good,” Braden said. “We were having a hell of a time reaching you.”

“You keep strange company these days,” Verona said, nodding to the other two men, but his eyes never left the older man with the long leather duster. His eyes widened as he felt the traces of energy gathering around the older man. An Elitesman was helping them?

“Desperate times,” Braden answered his questioning gaze. “Come, I’ll fill you in on the way.”

“Where is Aaron?” Verona asked, following Braden and his two Khamearrian escorts.

“Where do you think?” Braden snorted. “Where he can cause the most commotion. He is the reason why the towers are so empty.”

Verona nodded. “What is the plan?”

Braden nodded toward Captain Nolan.

“We’re going to get away from here and hide out with the underground Resistance here in the city.” Captain Nolan said. “I’m Nolan, by the way.”

“You have my sincerest gratitude for coming to our aid,” Verona said and introduced himself and the others.

“We need to move,” the old Elitesman barked from farther down the staircase.

“That one is called Isaac,” Braden said.

“Will Aaron be meeting us?” Verona asked as they headed down the staircase, catching up with Isaac.

Braden’s answer was interrupted as a group of shadows appeared on the staircase. A young group of initiates burst into the staircase, looking startled to see them. They couldn’t have been beyond their mid-teen years. Some of their eyes narrowed suspiciously while most looked on nervously.

Before any of them could do anything, Isaac stepped forward.

“Initiates,” Isaac’s voice spoke with authority. “Where are you heading?”

The group of boys traded glances with one another before one stepped forward.

“Speak quickly, boy,” Isaac said.

“My Lord of the Elite,” the boy said. “The alarms have sounded. We’re to evacuate the tower immediately.”

Isaac nodded as if what the boy said was obvious. “Well, don’t let us keep you. Move along.”

The boy looked as if he were about to say something else then shrugged his shoulders, nodded to the others, and left.

As the staircase began to fill with people, Isaac led them away down one of the less crowded corridors. Verona glanced at Gavril, who studied the comms device and nodded back to him. He glanced out of a passing window and saw the arena in the distance. It had grown dark and quiet, and Verona hoped that his friend had not bitten off more than he could chew. A soft hand slipped into his, and Verona turned to see Roselyn behind him. For once, he was thankful that in this moment he didn’t have to say anything. The message in her eyes was obvious, even to him, and somewhere in the midst of this he had earned the attention of his beautiful Hythariam Princess. He knew the Hythariam didn’t have princesses, but Roselyn could be nothing else to him, except possibly the queen of his heart. 

They came through a small doorway, and the cool night air washed over them. Perhaps there was hope for them after all.

C
HAPTER
17

THE TOWER

AARON quietly circled the towers of the Elite. He had checked the comms device earlier and judging from the video feeds, knew that his friends were safe. As safe as they could be given that they were escaping from the home of the Elite. The Citadel grounds weren’t nearly as populated now as they had been when last he checked. No doubt his own efforts at the arena had proven tempting enough to draw them out. He crept along and headed for the tower where the travel crystals were being charged. He drew in the energy from around him and cast it out to see if he could detect anyone nearby. He tensed up, sensing an approaching presence behind him. 

Aaron leaped down from the wall, landing within the confines of the Citadel. People were still pouring out of the tower entrances farthest from him, but where he stood all was dark and quiet. He was torn between moving on and waiting to see who was trying to follow him. He squatted down, deciding that a few moments' caution was a far lesser risk than having someone follow him inside the tower.

The silhouette of a cloaked figure appeared on the Citadel walls where he had been and scanned the area. After a few seconds, the figure dropped down to the ground about twenty yards from where Aaron was hiding. The man stopped abruptly and stood up from his crouched position then walked purposefully into the moonlight.

“I know you’re there,” he said.

Aaron stared at the man standing in the moonlight. “No princely titles this time?” Aaron asked, stepping into the light. 

They stood twenty feet apart, and even in the shadows could Aaron sense the barrage of emotions roiling through the young prince, the most prevalent one being fear.

Aaron watched as Sarah’s brother stood before him, his hands itching to draw the sword at his hip, but clearly unable to decide what to do. For Sarah, he would give Rordan this one chance at reason. “I’m not here for you, Rordan. I’m here for Sarah.”

“The last I saw of my sister she was with you,” Rordan said.

Aaron leveled his gaze at the young prince. “She is not here with me.”

Rordan drew his sword, holding it loosely by his side and began to circle around, but Aaron kept his distance. He could sense the energy gathering around Rordan as it would any of the Elitesmen he faced.

“We don’t have to do this,” Aaron said, keeping his staff ready in case Rordan attacked. “We don’t have to be enemies.”

“You killed my brother,” Rordan said, his voice shaking. 

“After he stabbed Sarah in the back with his sword,” Aaron countered. “Primus got what he deserved.”