The Hungering Flame (14 page)

“
Stop,
”
the king said, shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his weary face,
“
just stop.
”

“
A challenge, father,
”
Cabre said, his voice breaking,
“
You have to listen.
”
He held the dagger up at arm’s length.

Haerad’s shoulder’s sagged, and he turned his back, leaning on the edge of the sand table.
“
It’s my fault,
”
he said,
“
I loved your mother too much... I was too easy on you, for her sake. You never learned to think the way a man should. You’re like her. You believe men’s lies. You give your trust too easily.
”

“
It’s not a lie father!
”
Cabre sobbed,
“
You have to listen to me.
”

“
Fairy tales, she told you. You believed them,
”
Haerad said,
“
You think there will be always be a happy ending. Life isn’t like that, boy. There are no happy endings here. She learned that herself in the end.
”

Cabre held the dagger out, clenched in his fist.
“
Look at me, father!
”
he wept.

The king half turned but could not bring himself to look back at his son. His gaze fell to the table. He reached out and lifted a handful of sand and watched it spill through his fingers.
“
My line has faded, its strength gone. It dies with me.
”

“
Father!
”
Cabre pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“
Leave me!
”
Haerad cried,
“
Astorra will die before it bends knee to false gods and half-men! Get out, and take
that
worm with you, coward!
”
His voice fell.
“
I only wish I had the strength to save my people.
”

Garrett tried to rise, but his legs, numbed from kneeling on the stone floor gave out beneath him. He looked at Cabre. The prince stood silent, the Neshite dagger clenched in his trembling fist, his teeth grinding behind twitching, bleeding lips. His face hardened into a mask of terrible resolve.

“
I
have the strength to save our people,
”
Prince Cabre hissed.

The prince lunged forward, dagger in hand, and drove the blade between his father’s ribs. The runed dagger crunched through steel mail links like a stone through thin ice. Cabre yanked the dagger free and rammed it into his father’s back again and again. Bright blood poured from the wounds, staining mail and table and floor as the king slumped, clutching at the edge of the table.

Haerad twisted his head around, staring up at his son in disbelief, blood sputtering from his lips.

The knife clattered to the floor as Cabre staggered back, shaking his head in horror. His boots turned beneath him, and he fell to the floor, his red hand stretched imploringly toward his dying father.
“
I’m sorry!
”
he gasped,
“
I’m so sorry!
”

Garrett ran to the king’s side, catching him as his strength failed, and he fell to the floor. Haerad looked up at Garrett, his eyes wide, clutching at the front of Garrett’s robe as he spat his last breath through crimson-stained teeth.

The doors of the war hall burst open, and men charged in, shouting.

A savage kick drove Garrett to the floor as Sir Baelan threw his body across the king. Garrett’s vision swam with
stars;
he looked up to see a furious knight rip a sword from his belt and raise it to strike.

“
No!
”
Cabre screamed,
“
It’s not... don’t hurt him!
”

The stunned guardsmen looked to their prince.

“
Do not harm him!
”
Cabre shouted, on his knees now, bloody hand outstretched.

Sir Baelan moaned, cradling the king’s head with his arm.
“
He’s killed the king!
”
Baelan cried out,
“
He’s stabbed the prince as well! Bring a physick!
”

“
I didn’t do anything!
”
Garrett cried out, but the guardsman above him drove the pommel of his sword down on Garrett’s head, and the light went away, leaving nothing but the sound of Cabre’s voice.

“
I’m sorry...
”

The first sensation was cold water on his face. The second sensation was the throbbing fire in his head.

“
Prince said give him water,
”
a man’s voice spoke,
“
He’s had it.
”

Another man gave a brief chuckle.

Garrett opened his eyes, but his vision had gone gray in a large patch at the center, and what little he could see spun around the edges of the blind spot. He tried to rub his eyes, but found his wrists were bound behind his back. His jaw ached as he tried to spit out the oily rag that had been stuffed in his mouth, but a tight binding held it in place. His hood had slipped
off his head and lay, damp and plastered against his back
.
Little trickles of water ran down
his exposed neck
in
to the collar of his robe.

Looking to the left and right to peer around the edges of the blind spot, he made out the walls and bars of a prison cell, hardly bigger than the patch of stone on which he lay.

Garrett tried to call for help. Barely a sound came from his throat.

A man laughed. A shadow moved beyond the bars.
“
Can’t magick your way outta this one, wizard!
”
the man said.

Garrett tried to rise, but his ankles were bound as well, and the effort made his head hurt worse. He felt the gorge rise in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting for control, afraid
that
he would choke on his own vomit.

Garrett lay on the floor with his eyes closed, trying to slow his breathing. The stone felt cool and solid against his cheek, and he focused on that sensation.

“
What do you think’s gonna happen?
”
the second man’s voice asked.

“
I dunno,
”
the other man said,
“
this changes things.
”

“
You see that dragon?
”

“
Dragon don’t make a difference.
”

“
What the hell you mean?
”
the second man laughed,
“
You gonna handle that one by yourself?
”

“
I mean war is war. A dragon or a legion, its just somethin’ you hafta fight.
”

“
Yeah, but the blood, Trevr, did’ja see the blood?
”

“
Magick!
”
Trevr spat,
“
You see what happens when you knock the wind outta a wizard. You see it right there on the floor.
”

Garrett heard something
metallic
dragged across the bars.

“
Go on, wizard, conjure up some blood!
”
Trevr laughed.

“
Why would they kill the king though?
”
the other man asked.

“
Probably trying to make us the weaker target,
”
Trevr said,
“
Draw some heat off themselves. Make the
'
diries think we’re easy pickin’s.
”

The other man grunted in response.

“
Anyway, keep an eye on him,
”
Trevr said.

“
He’s goin’ nowhere,
”
the other guard said.

The pain in Garrett’s head grew worse, and he ground his teeth into the gag. A ringing sound filled his ears, and he blacked out.

When he came to again, his eyes opened on darkness. Panic seized him. He thought he had lost his sight entirely, until he realized that he could still make out the floor of his cell, dimly lit by moonlight. He strained his neck around to see a small window, high above. The bars of the prison door framed the dim light of a distant flame reflected off of the stone wall beyond. No guards lingered there. The blind spot in his eye had cleared up, and the room around him seemed steady enough.

Garrett worked himself, painfully, into a sitting position against the wall. His head still hurt, but the headache had subsided to a dull, pulsing thump. His shoulder felt bruised where someone had kicked him.

He thought of crying out through the gag, in the hopes they might loosen his bonds and give him food or drink. Then the memory of the guards’ words earlier returned, and he resolved that he would give them no further opportunity to mock him.

Garrett sat against the wall, overwhelmed with a growing rage.
He
hoped that the pain would end soon, that Warren would break through the door and rescue him. Maybe Prince Cabre would tell them all that it was a mistake and punish the guards for their treatment of him. Garrett had saved Cabre’s life. That
had
to matter. The prince
would
do something to help him.

As the long hours of the night passed, the hope died in Garrett’s chest, and something cold and ugly sprang up in its place. Cabre was a coward who was going to let Garrett take the blame for murdering the king. No one was going to come to Garrett’s rescue. Warren probably knew nothing about what had happened. Garrett was going to die in the morning, and no one would even know what had really happened.

No, someone would know. Garrett imagined what would happen to the evil prince when Uncle found out... when Max found out.

When Garrett finally succumbed to exhaustion, it was to the imagined vision of armies of the dead swarming through the sundered gates of Braedshal.

****

“
Get him up and come on!
”
the guard that Garrett recognized as Trevr said. He grabbed Garrett’s arm and hauled him to his feet.

The second guard seized Garrett’s other arm, and together they dragged him through the open cell door before he even realized where he was.

“
This isn’t right!
”
the other guard said,
“
He deserves to die for what he did!
”

Trevr laughed.
“
Oh, he’ll die all right. Don’t you worry about that. The
'
diries’ll do far worse to him than you can imagine. They
hate
wizards.
”

Garrett’s mind reeled, trying to make sense of what the guard had said. He tried to speak, but managed only a faint moan.

Trevr laughed again, looking at Garrett with an evil smirk.
“
Didn’t expect that, did ya?
”
he said,
“
Prince is givin’ you to the
'
diries. They’re gonna burn you boy!
”

“
Looks like somebody already tried that!
”
the other guard said.

Trevr grinned.
“
Well, this ugly little murderin’ rat shoulda stayed in his hole. I only wish I could be there to see what they do to him.
”

Garrett screamed in rage, no longer even trying to form words. His whole body hurt, and his brain throbbed with pain and fear. The two guardsmen dragged him up a flight of stone stairs, banging Garrett’s shins against the steps as they climbed. He squinted against the blinding light of day as they threw open a door and hauled him out into a dusty courtyard.

“
Bring him here,
”
a familiar voice spoke.

Garrett squinted, trying to see who it was. Sir Baelan and a half dozen knights in blue doublets sat astride their horses, flanking a large wagon. In the bed of the wagon sat a large animal cage.

Garrett tried calling out Sir Baelan’s name, but the big knight only looked away, his face dark with anger.
“
Put him in,
”
he said.

Trevr lifted Garrett over his shoulder while the other guard held the cage door open. He tossed Garrett’s upper body inside, and shoved Garrett’s legs in after him. They slammed the cage door shut and latched it with a heavy bolt. Trevr leaned close the cage and spat in Garrett’s face.

“
Enough of that!
”
Baelan growled,
“
Let’s get this over with.
”

Trevr and the other guard scurried clear as the team of four horses lurched beneath the wagon driver’s whip. Wooden wheels creaked, and the wagon rolled forward.

Garrett turned his face, trying to wipe the spittle off on the dusty floor of the cage. The fear was gone now, replaced by a smoldering rage. He would find a way to escape somehow, and he would come back. He would come back and make these men pay for this. He would make Cabre pay, most of all.

The wagon bumped and rolled beneath him, and a shadow fell over him as they passed beneath a broad archway. They emerged into the sunlight again as the packed earth beneath the wheels gave way to cobblestones, rattling the door of the cage and feeling out every little bruise in Garrett’s body.

“
Close ranks!
”
Sir Baelan shouted, and Garrett saw the horsemen draw closer to the sides of the wagon. All around, the tall buildings of Braedshal loomed above, and angry faces stared down from every window and balcony.

“
Murderer!
”
screamed the people of Braedshal. Chunks of rotten food and other filth rained down from above. Something wet and
foul
-
smelling
struck the bars of Garrett’s cage, showering him with sticky fluid.

The knights shouted and threatened, their horses neighing loudly as a crowd on the street surged close, trying to get at the wagon.

“
Kill him!
”
people shouted, and the wagon shook as rough hands grabbed at the sideboards. Garrett looked into the rage-crazed eyes of a large man in a dirty tunic, hauling himself up to grasp the bars of the cage. Sir Baelan struck him in the forehead with the flat of his sword, and the man fell, senseless, in the street.

“
Move!
”
Baelan shouted, and the wagon lurched forward, faster now. People in the street ahead screamed and fled as the wagon and armored knights barreled toward them. Garrett no longer cared about the bumps in the road.

Garrett squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that he could stop out the voices of the people of Braedshal. He was sobbing quietly when they passed through the main gates and the cries of rage finally died away behind them.

“
That old hag dumped a chamber pot on me!
”
one of the knights said.

The others laughed.

“
Tell me again what I did to deserve this honor, Baelan?
”
the knight asked.

Sir Baelan did not answer, and they rode for a while with only the creak
ing sound
of the wheels, the wind in the grass, and Garrett’s stifled sobs.

“
Shut up you!
”
the befouled knight shouted in frustration. The sound of a blade drawn from its scabbard was followed close
ly
by the pain of a sword tip prodding Garrett in the arm. He cried out and tried to roll to the far side of the cage.

“
Put that away, Kae!
”
Sir Baelan cried. The blade withdrew from the cage, and the knight named Kae rode a little further away from the wagon, muttering curses.

Garrett looked up to see Sir Baelan riding beside the wagon, looking at him. The big knights’ eyes tensed, his face grim. Baelan rode forward and swung his leg over his saddle, climbing up beside the wagon driver. The wagon creaked under the weight of the armored man as he climbed into the back and stooped beside Garrett’s cage.

Baelan drew out his dagger and reached through the bars.

Garrett tried to struggle away, but Baelan grabbed his shoulder with his free hand, holding Garrett in place with the strength of an iron vice. Garrett closed his eyes, feeling the cold blade of the dagger on his cheek.

Then the blade slipped beneath the cord of Garrett’s gag, and Baelan
sawed the edge of it back and forth,
cut
ting
the cord
. Garrett tried to spit out the rag, but his tongue had gone numb. Baelan tugged it out.

“
Careful, Sir Baelan,
”
a
knight said,
“
H
e’s a spell-weaver!
”

“
If he could do anything like that,
”
Baelan said,
“
he wouldn’t have needed a knife to kill the king.
”