A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga) (49 page)

Another muffled clink passed through the wood to Maddi’s pressed ear.

“Speaking of your pet project…” Maddi could almost hear the leer in the chancellor’s voice. “…will you meet success with it tonight?”

Marten cackled a licentious laugh, one Maddi had never expected to hear from his lips. “Perhaps. That dirty urchin she adopted is cared for tonight. I intend on getting a few more drinks into her, get her in the carriage, and then get
into
her myself.” The laugh sounded again, joined by a similarly salacious one from the chancellor. “Speaking of which, I should probably return, or I might lose my opportunity.”

Fire burned in Maddi’s chest, her breaths quick and insufficient. She backed away from the door casting her eyes about for a hiding place. The gallery, faintly lit by glowglobes, curved away in both directions, open to the ceiling. Her heart beat with anger, hurt, and fear. Her mind was unclear. She heard the latch lift on the office door.

The curtains!
Maddi ducked behind the long, red drapes, holding her breath and straining to catch any sound. The creak of a door opening filled her ears.

“Allow me to go first.” The chancellor’s voice remained low. “We should not be seen returning together.”

“I will wait here only a minute.” Marten sounded frustrated.

Unmoving, Maddi kept still in her hiding place. A peek around the crimson fabric, and she watched the chancellor walking into the entryway of the main hall. When she stepped around the drapes, her jaw set in rage, Marten’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You!” She fought to keep her voice in a fierce whisper. “You would use me and my hospital to further your poisonous schemes! Is that what you wanted the sylipsis root for? Poison?” She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to strike him. “How much of the king’s money were you actually going to give to us? Or were you just going to keep half of it again?”

The Lord Doctor’s face contorted from fear and surprise to a dark rage she had not imagined upon his handsome features. “You do not understand. I don’t know why you thought to eavesdrop, but – whatever you heard – it’s not what you think.” He moved toward Maddi. She thought she sensed him embracing his Talent. “I—”

A bright halo preceded the rustle of conversation and movement down the gallery. Armed men in blue cloaks trotted down a set of steps, followed by mages holding globes of light. A cluster of festively dressed nobility followed the soldiers. Each eyed Maddi and the doctor with predatory gazes.

Marten backed away, lowering his head in a bow. Maddi retreated toward her curtain.

A girl and a boy in blue livery aided an old man dressed in pure white. The Opal Crown sat evenly on his head, though his brow drooped. King Arathan’s steps were short and shallow as he descended the flight of stairs with a great deal of aid from his pages. The nobles surrounded him, fawning and pretending not to notice his infirmity.

At the bottom of the red-carpeted steps, Arathan lifted his head to gaze at Marten. “Ah, the Lord Doctor. Have you come to offer me healing before the ball, my old friend?” The king shifted his gaze toward Maddi. Despite the age wracking the rest of his body, the fierce blue eyes still held the steel of a boy who reunited his kingdom. “And you – ah, yes, you must be her. Tymin told me he would bring you tonight. I have so desired to meet the woman my people have named
Lifegiver
.”

He tilted his head toward her. “In my great-grandfather’s time, you would have been considered a threat to his power.” Maddi furrowed her brow, and the king laughed, jovial and with some of that old, youthful strength. “Do not fear, my lady. I consider you an asset to our kingdom.”

Maddi lowered herself into the deepest and most graceful curtsy she could produce. “It is an honor and a pleasure to serve, Your Majesty.”

The king inclined his head toward her and raised a finger with a thought. “Perhaps, rather than Tymin fumbling around with my joints again, you could offer the use of your Talent upon me.”

A few of the nobles encircling the king frowned, casting dubious stares in Maddi’s direction.

Maddi curtsied once more. “It would be an even greater honor, Your Majesty.”

She walked forward, the crowd of nobility begrudgingly parting for her. The king held out his arm, and Maddi took it, embracing her Talent.

The glitter of life forces surrounding Maddi sprang into her mind’s eye – the nobles, the pages, the Lord Doctor Marten. King Arathan glowed with the energy of life. It throbbed with his pulse, outshining even that of Marten. The nobles faded within the brilliance of Arathan.

Maddi delved into the king, finding the places where age and wear had broken down his joints and ligaments. She rejuvenated them, strengthening the padding between the king’s bones and repairing the tears in his muscles. Where she found weak points in organs and arteries, places worn thin by time, Maddi added a veneer of her own
psahn
, regenerating the deteriorated tissue.

The deeper she poked within the king’s life force, the more she felt something odd about it. A shadow hung over it, different from that of normal disease. Maddi felt chaotic energies swirling within the shadow. It existed solely within the king’s life force, not within his body. She reached for it, but drew back, fearful that she could not keep her own
psahn
safe. Maddi backed away, abandoning the king’s life force with a swift exhale.

King Arathan straightened, shooing away the pages who reached to aid him. He took a few slow steps then skipped into the air, tottering slightly when he landed again. Half a dozen nobles reached for their king to steady his thin frame.

“Nay!” The king stood firm on his own, sweeping the air with a commanding hand. “Do not touch the royal person!” The nobles scattered back, dipping their heads in supplication.

King Arathan turned to Maddi, his wrinkled, narrow lips on the verge of quivering. “I have not felt this well in a decade. The name my people have given you is indeed justly deserved.” He shifted his gaze to the Lord Doctor. “I will double my stipend for her hospital, Tymin. Chancellor Vyce will see to its distribution.” The king gave Maddi a roguish smile. “No man has ever watched my coin so well as Sammin Vyce.” The smile turned to a scowl when the king eyed his nobles. “Perhaps that is because he was born low. The man had to develop real talents to excel in this world.”

Most of the nobles inclined their heads, though Maddi noticed a few who did not. Three golden trees set with emeralds as their leaves hung from one frowning noble’s neck. Another bearded young man with amethyst and jade grape clusters on his pendant stared at the king, his face unreadable.

Arathan cast his regal smile upon Maddi once again. “I will dance at my Midwinter Ball for the first time in years. I hope that we pass each other in a turn upon the floor.”

Maddi curtsied, and the king moved on. His retinue followed him, but not without some icicle-filled stares for Maddi. A moment later, she stood alone with the Lord Doctor again.

“Maddi,” he whispered fiercely, his eyes darting about the hall. “I don’t know what you thought you heard before, but you must let me…”

She did not hear his final words. Instead, she raced down the gallery, and out onto the grounds at the first exit she found. Walking stiffly, trying not to run, Maddi found a public coach pulled up outside the main gate. “Can you take me to the Doctor’s College?”

The carriage driver knuckled his forehead. “That’s a bit of a distance. It will cost a half mark, my lady.”

Realizing she had brought no coin, Maddi pulled the sapphire earrings from her ears and folded one into the man’s palm. “I would ask that you make all haste.”

They pulled up at her house in less than half the time it took to arrive at the Palace. The driver knuckled his head and bowed several times to her from his bench, barely able to take his eyes from the jewels.

She opened the door, her hands numb against the keys. Tanya and Ami lay cuddled together asleep. Thankful that she did not have to face them now, Maddi drifted silently back to her own room. Her tears never slipped until she had buried her face into her pillow.

Midwinter is usually considered the end of the oyster season in the Bay of Hope. It is also when their flavor is at their peak. Some cracked pepper and a squeeze of lemon is all one needs to perfect them.

— “A Culinary Guide” by Julinnia of Chiles.

T
allen wrapped his cloak tighter against the chill blowing in off the sea. The sky hung heavy and gray above him with a threat of winter weather. He hooked the bulging sack of lemons through his belt, tying them safely. His eyes drifted toward the white blot of the sun where it forced its way through the leaden clouds. It already dipped toward the horizon.

“Blast!” Tallen cursed at the wizard whose house he had just left.
The old bastard would not stop talking. I had hoped that only one or two stories about Hadon would be the price of a few lemons. Too bad he’s the only wizard on the Isle who keeps lemon trees in his solarium.
“But those oysters that came in this morning would be naked without it,” he admitted aloud. “I promised something special for the party tonight.”

He jogged along the gravel path, his eyes watching the sun dip farther toward the sea. Darkness mulled about the trail by the time he reached the fork. One choice led around Walnut Hill, taking him miles out of his way.
I’ll be lucky to make the party at all!
The other fork led into a thicket between the hills – the place Varana had quite clearly forbidden to students.

All she said was that it would interfere with touching my power.
Tallen shrugged.
I don’t see why I can’t cut through. It will save me hours of running.
He made his choice and jogged into the thicket.

Breezes moved the pine trees, and birds chirped in their branches. A cardinal darted across his path, and a pair of rabbits, fat for winter, dashed into a patch of briars.

It took him a few minutes to realize that the strange fuzziness in his mind was nothing to do with his exertion. It increased gradually, slowly swamping his brain. His thoughts ran smooth, but someone or something had cast a blanket over his senses. He tested his power, reaching out to the force he could so easily call these days. Tallen could not find the Aspects. They hovered beyond a cloud of haze, distorted and intangible.

Tallen increased his pace, the sack of lemons slapping against his thigh. Trees loomed overhead, their shadows darkening the path while evening crept ever further into the sky. His steps slowed when an unexplained fear lifted the hairs on his neck. He cast his eyes about, noticing the now silent birds. He reached for his power, still hidden behind that hazy wall of interference.

“Now!” came the gruff shout from the trees. A dozen shapes darted out of cover, growling.

Desperate to make the cover of the forest, Tallen ran toward the trees. The attacker moved faster than he did, cutting off his escape. His heart pounded in his ears as he looked about for another route to freedom.

Four of the largest figures closed in from the circle surrounding him. One look at the red eyes and Tallen knew they were orcs. Suddenly, a rough net that spun around his head blinded him, cutting into his skin and pulling him to the ground. The orcs began to beat him, harsh kicks and punches bruising his ribs and arms. The pain drove out his breath, and he ended his meager struggles.

Rough hands forced a hood over his head. His arms were pinned to his sides by a heavy skin that wrapped around him, crushing the lemons against his thigh. He groaned in pain, receiving an extra kick to his ribs in response.

“I said he is not to be harmed!” Tallen heard the thump of steel on steel and a harsh grunt. “Anyone kicks him again and they lose their head!”

Tallen groaned as they hoisted him up. Pain sliced into his side with every difficult breath. The tarp squeezed his arms against his chest. The jostling motion exacerbated every pain and swelling bruise on his body. His mind danced in and out of consciousness, until he felt hard stone slam into his side.

“We’ll keep him here until nightfall. Then I will dose him with the magebane, and we can sneak him back to the boats.”

The words scudded along Tallen’s mind, obscured by a fog of pain. Nowhere could he find his power. He could not even sense its presence.

His breath eased as the tarp came loose, reducing some of the pain in his chest and legs. Torchlight blinded him as the hood ripped away, taking a piece of his ear. The attackers unwrapped the net and bound his hands and feet with rough hemp ropes. Green hands ripped the sack of lemons from his belt. Tallen did not resist, remaining silent while they manhandled him.

“You’ll do well to remain that compliant, Human.” The orc doing all the talking wore a thick boarskin cloak, with a chain of tusks around his neck. “Our Master has great plans for you.”

Tallen edged himself into a corner. His lip felt damp. He wiped it on his shoulder leaving a smear of blood on his shirt. Orcs huddled together not far from the cave entrance, waiting for the last of the dying day to slip from the sky. Tallen watched them from the corner of his eye, the fear welling inside threatening to overwhelm him. Some of his pain had ebbed, but his side still ached with every breath.
They are so many, and I don’t even have a dagger.

He stretched for his power, pounding on the foggy haze with his will. Nothing would give. His mind collapsed in despair, the nervous quiver of panic gathering in his stomach. The bindings tore against his hands as he struggled.

The sound of a dislodged rock drifted to him from deep within the cave. A strange clicking sound followed it, echoing faintly along the stone walls. The orcs, busy mumbling among themselves, did not notice. Another rock tumbled and one of the warriors turned his head.

“Did you hear that?”

The others pointed their ears toward the tunnel leading farther into the cave. Their boar-cloaked leader stepped toward it. “Scarvin, take four men and find out what’s down there.”

Half of the orc warriors drew their scimitars. Each lit a fresh torch from the one set into a wall niche. Tallen watched them advance into the cave. Their light still hung on the walls for some time after the orcs disappeared.

The torchlight flickered. Screams of fear and pain filled the cave. The crack of metal on some chitinous substance clattered to Tallen’s ears. The shouts and screams abruptly died.

Silence reigned again. The remaining orcs, mumbling in fear, drew their weapons and huddled near the tunnel entrance.

Their leader’s lips curled around his fangs. “All of you – down there! I will watch the vessel. Find out what happened!”

None moved, their wide eyes darting about in fear.

“Go! Or I will see to it that your skin is flayed from your bodies!”

The orcs shifted their feet before grabbing a set of torches and making their way down the tunnel. Their screams started far sooner than the last set of warriors, though they lasted no longer. Tallen pushed himself back into the corner, while the orc leader took two steps closer to the tunnel’s entrance.

A bundle of leather and metal crashed into the orc leader, throwing him hard against the stone. He lay still, dark red gore oozing from a dent on the side of his head where it had hit the wall. Tallen realized the bundle that had crashed into him was the upper half of one of the warriors, ripped from his legs and still gasping for air. The warrior’s red eyes died, and the death grip on his scimitar gave way. The weapon clanged to the floor of the cave.

Tallen scrambled closer to the sword, hurrying to cut his bindings along the sharp edge. Blood and gore from the torn warrior’s body made the blade slick. Pain sliced along his wrist, and Tallen knew some of the blood was now his.

The clicking sound returned from the deep, much louder and closer this time. A bulky shuffle and the drag of metal on stone followed.

His heart pounding in his ears, his mind barely treading water in a sea of panic, Tallen scraped the rough rope along the sword. The threads popped, just as a loud thump sounded behind him. Another orc body landed in the cave, its head and one arm and shoulder missing.

Tallen’s wrists came free. Blood rushed back to his fingers. The tingle of pain made them almost as useless as they had been numb. He fumbled with the orc blade, frantic to free his legs. The last strand parted, and he scrambled to his feet, his eyes on the back of the cave.

A long, bladelike leg peeked out of the tunnel, tapping the stone and making a distinct click on the rock. A second appeared, and both braced against the floor. The legs heaved, and from behind them, squeezing out from the narrow opening, a heavy carapace flopped into the room. Spindly antennae searched the cave, while a dozen beady eyes reflected the light of the torch. Four more hard legs followed, and the creature heaved its bulk around to stare at Tallen. A gaping, razor-beaked mouth opened, and stinking slime leaked out – the foul stench of rot and bile stinging his nose.

Tallen looked into the tar-like eyes, staring back at him with his own death. The maw closed in on him, the slather dripping in yellow globs. He scrambled back toward the mouth of the cave, desperate to keep the sword between him and the beast. It crawled closer, tapping the stone with its legs and sniffing the air with its antennae. Tallen drew short, rapid breaths. The hot press of panic muffled his thoughts.

The giant, carapace-covered creature thrust out a single appendage, piercing and pinning Tallen’s right leg to the ground. Dropping the scimitar, he screamed in pain as a hot lance of agony shot through him. The world spun, and he flailed his arms about. One of his hands touched the bag of lemons he had carried. They tumbled out onto the floor, a few of them split open and leaking juice. The monster paused, moving back a half step from the rolling citrus. The leg stuck in Tallen’s calf dragged him across the floor, and he screamed again in agony.

In desperation, he grabbed a lemon, the juice stinging the cuts on his hands. He threw it at the creature, hitting it in the face. The monster withdrew its leg from Tallen, squealing and wiping its eyes with antennae. A gush of red blood shot out of Tallen’s wound. Another scream burst from his lungs, as his own blood sprayed across his face. The world spun. He flailed, struggling to get away. His hand touched a second lemon.

He forced his mind to focus.

Grabbing the scimitar, Tallen pulled the lemon along its sharp edge. The fruit cut with ease. Before he could turn the weapon toward the creature, it flung its appendage out, knocking the sword away. It ricocheted down into the tunnel.

The giant insect lunged forward. Tallen dodged its outstretched leg, his mind sharpened by the pain racing through his body. He took the two halves of lemon in both hands and squeezed them in a wide spray of acidic juice. The fluid splattered across the monster’s dozen eyes. The creature roared a guttural scream and skittered backward, crashing its fattened rear end into the far wall of the cavern. It flailed about blindly, rubbing its black eyes with its antennae. Tallen edged toward the cave entrance, his one leg numb and useless.

The creature shook itself. The antennae rubbed the eyes again, and it found Tallen. The beast opened its maw and roared, splattering slather across the cave. It charged forward, and Tallen grasped with awful certainty that it was his death coming for him. This time those pincers would rip him apart, just as they had the orcs. He took a deep breath and embraced his end.

A sudden bundle of black feathers and razor sharp talons burst into the cave, throwing itself at the creature’s eyes. An obsidian beak thrust itself in and out, destroying a black, liquid globe with each stab. When the monster swung at it, the bird dashed away, and the legs struck its own face. A ferocious light filled the cave, and a roaring man hurled himself at the beast.

Tallen’s heart leaped into his throat and the threat of tears pressed against his forehead. “Tomas! Merl!”

The paladin swung his burning sword in swift, decisive arcs. The creature’s spindle legs were sliced from it in a swirl of blue-white flame. The bulky body came crashing down to the cave floor, the remaining legs flailing about. Tomas took a step back, and with a sudden speed, thrust Steelsheen deep within the monster’s head and thorax, burying it to the hilt. He ripped the sword away, eviscerating the front half of the creature. Slime and entrails splattered about the cave, leaving the body quivering on the stone.

The paladin turned his fierce face toward Tallen as he slumped down the cave wall onto the gore drenched floor. He gasped for air and his vision danced with stars and blackness.

“Tallen!” Dorias held him, the familiar smell of pipe smoke in the wizard’s cloak bringing a half-smile to Tallen’s face. His eyes wanted to roll back in his skull. His mind ached to drift away and rest.

“Tallen, stay awake. You must not sleep.” The oaken baritone seemed familiar. “Let me touch him, Dorias. He needs healing. He lost a great deal of blood, and who knows what poisons linger on that
skittering
’s claws.”

His friends jostled him, but it felt as if it were another body in another time. A warm tingle flushed through him, focusing on his lower leg and the side of his chest. He felt a dull pain there, like a bruise that had knitted over time. Soon the pain became an itch, one that spread to other parts of his body.