Echoes Of A Gloried Past (Book 2) (20 page)

Braden brought his fist to his chest as the words of the De’anjard were spoken. Aaron nodded, and Isaac cleared his throat.

“The best distraction is for you to appear in the arena at precisely the right moment. If the Elitesmen believe you to be there then they will let their guard down, further allowing for a small group to infiltrate the Citadel.”

Aaron thought about it for a second, granting that the Elitesmen had a point. “Who will go inside to free our friends?”

Isaac’s craggy face lifted into a small grin. “I would offer myself, but somehow I don’t think you would allow that.”

“I’ll go,” Captain Nolan said, drawing everyone’s attention. “And since you’re here to protect me then it looks like you’ll have to come with me.” 

Isaac nodded.

“I will go with them. They will need to see a face that they can trust,” Braden said in a tone that did not invite any arguments.

Aaron glanced at Braden, concerned for a moment that his friend was too hot-headed for this, but who was he to judge? They were all here because of his need to find the travel crystals. Aaron looked back at the old Elitesman. In what world would he have ever thought to trust the lives of his friends to one of them, but what choice did he have? The Elitesman’s plan made the most sense and was certainly better than shooting from the hip and making it up as he went.

“There is another thing I would like to ask you,” Aaron said. “Travel crystals. Do you know where I can find them?”

Isaac’s gaze narrowed for a second. “I know they are charged in one of the towers. Why do you ask?”

“I need them,” Aaron answered. “I need to know how I can get inside the tower and what guards them.”

Captain Nolan cleared his throat again. “I think we’d be more comfortable if we use my office for this. This way, we can use some of the maps to help in the planning.”

Aaron looked back at Braden, who nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. Thank you, Captain.”

“Please,” the captain said. “Call me Nolan, your Grace.”

“Nolan, please call me Aaron.”

Nolan nodded and led the others from the room. Once again, Aaron brought up the rear, but allowed the men to get far enough ahead to bring out the comms device.

“Were you able to hear all that?” Aaron whispered.

“Yes,” Tanneth answered. “The plan has merit. And I agree that there is nothing we can do tonight. They have that place locked down tight. I’ll continue to have the drones recon for us, and you already know how to access the feeds. If I find something worthy of your immediate attention then I will let you know. But there is one more thing.”

“What’s that?” Aaron asked.

“Be wary of one of those men with you. I’m not sure he is being entirely forthcoming,” Tanneth warned.

Aaron nodded. “I know and thanks. Be careful. I trust your reconnaissance more than another man’s knowledge at this point. Were you able to reach Gavril or Roselyn?”

“I don’t want to draw unwanted attention to them, but I can tell you that Gavril and Roselyn are still alive. If they can reach out to us, they will. I’m betting that Sarik and Verona are alive as well.”

Aaron frowned. “How do you know about Gavril and Roselyn?”

“Through the Nanites in their system.”

“Understood.” Aaron put the comms device back into his pocket and caught up to the other men. There was work to be done.

C
HAPTER
13

RUMINATIONS

THIS was the longest Mactar had taken up residence at the fabled High King’s palace in recent memory, and he hated every second of it. The furnishings were beyond compare, but all the pandering from the pathetic creatures that resided in the palace were beyond his contempt and was distracting from the real work that required his attention. His scowl deepened at passing servants that knew better than to make eye contact with him. It only took a few examples to convey that he neither needed nor wanted anything a servant had to offer. People were meant to be ruled; subservience had been bred into them for thousands of years. The weak were ruled by the strong and the cunning.

The plush and pomp setting of the High King’s court served its purpose for the masses, but the true rulers of Khamearra were the Order of the Elite who functioned as the High King’s right hand. High King Amorak allowed them the illusion of a council, which he could squash at a moment's notice. Like all tools, the council served a purpose, unlike his current efforts, but some goals required certain sacrifices. The task of overseeing the training of Prince Rordan, the High King’s remaining heir, with the exception of the Lady Sarah, didn’t qualify as worthy of his time. The thought of Sarah brought a frown to his face before he could quell it. Sarah alone held true potential, and it was a bit of a shock to see her aligned with this Aaron Jace, the sole heir of the House Alenzar’seth. 

Sarah’s whereabouts were unknown, even to him, but there could be no mistaking where her loyalties lay. It was terribly vexing to be outsmarted by the likes of Reymius Alenzar’seth. The destruction of Shandara should have been enough to satisfy the ambitions of any man, but now that the Alenzar’seth had returned, the victory over Shandara had become hollow and unfinished. The resilience of the Alenzar’seth was worthy of even his respect.

For all the High King’s might, he lacked the intelligence and foresight that would put him on equal footing with the Hythariam. The fact that Amorak was also Ferasdiam marked was truly an accident of fate, by his reckoning. Aaron had proven to be a worthy adversary and would be the rallying cry for the kingdoms of this world to unite behind. Not even the power of the Elite Order would be enough to bring them into line. No, Aaron was the real threat. Having no ties or ambition beyond immediate survival gave him the freedom to act in such a way that even he himself had underestimated. Their confrontation at Shandara was illuminating to say the least. His thoughts drew back to the events as they replayed in his mind. 

What connection was there between Sarah and Aaron, he wondered.

Then he saw it. As Aaron transitioned from the crossroads back to this reality, he scanned the battlefield and immediately went to Sarah’s side where the Elitesmen were the thickest. Only
love
would drive one to such lengths as to leap willingly into the fire. Mactar’s pulse quickened as the pieces fell into place and a malicious smile oozed its way onto his face. It seemed that the princess with the heart of ice had found something in her travels. This was something he could use. Aaron Jace was not as untouchable as it would seem. What were the chances that such a woman would find herself entangled between two Ferasdiam marked, ones touched by fate? There was no precedent for it. Two men, Ferasdiam marked, to shape the world of things to come. 

The High King had remained unchallenged since the fall of Shandara, and he still hadn’t come to grips with the fact that the Goddess had given her blessing to another. It was true that he himself didn’t hold faith with any deity, but it didn’t require faith to know the signs of a being with true power. Power that should be his. And yet here he was, observing the young prince with his Elitesman Master to teach him. Rordan had improved, there was no denying that. The Prince could hold his own against most Elitesmen, which in and of itself was an accomplishment shared by few, but in his mind the Prince would never be a match for Aaron Jace. Reymius’s heir had proven to be a worthy adversary and a very grave threat. There was nothing to be gained in not acknowledging the facts before him, and while pride had its place he would not succumb to its double-edged sword. The window whereby he could take the power of the Alenzar’seth for himself had passed. The one success he could use was the resurgence of the Hythariam. Seeing the land of Shandara had confirmed his theory regarding the stability of the barrier all along. It was failing and it was only a matter of time. 

The Drake had the ability to command the Ryakul. This was something he had seen first-hand at Shandara and was something he wanted to exploit. Being able to command a legion of Ryakuls would turn the tide in any war. Mactar’s gaze swept the surrounding palace from the practice yard in which he now stood. War was coming, of that he had no doubt. Seeing the Hythariam appear in Shandara with their flying machines only served to whet his appetite of what was promised to him.

“Rordan is making progress,” High King Amorak said.

Mactar had not heard him approach, but once the High King let his presence be known there was no mistaking it. “Yes, my Lord. He improves every day, but as I have said before, our attention would be better served elsewhere.”

The High King kept his gaze upon his son. “You mean your attention? Fear not, Mactar. The call has been sent to mobilize the armies. We will be ready for those who are foolish enough to align with Shandara.”

Mactar nodded. “We should continue to hunt the Alenzar’seth and seek out the Drake. I’ve seen reports of soldiers from various kingdoms gathering in the Waylands near Rexel.”

Amorak’s eyes narrowed. “Cyrus himself is not a threat, and I believe he has very little chance of uniting the kingdoms of the east against us. Regardless, I have something special in mind for them.”

“It’s not just them,” Mactar said. “The Hythariam have resurged. They are the real threat. They will use the Alenzar’seth as a rallying cry to unite the other kingdoms against us.” Partially true, but not something he was especially concerned about.

Amorak turned to him with a raised brow. “I thought you were preoccupied by the fact that Colind’s tomb now stands empty? The shadows are lengthening around you, and you are jumping at things that aren’t worthy of your attention. Tell me, what is really bothering you?”

Mactar was about to answer the High King when he felt the faintest brush along his senses. A cold touch that hissed at a promise of death, followed by the echoes of a mirthless cackle. 

Tarimus!

Mactar pushed out around them with his senses, but the presence was gone. There were times when he thought that madness was indeed consuming him, but at this moment he knew Tarimus had been there. The mirror of Areschel, which had given him dominion over Tarimus, remained closed to him. He had to accept the fact that Tarimus had somehow become free from his prison, but Mactar could not surmise how that could be.

“I felt it, too,” Amorak said glancing around them.

“Now we’re both jumping at shadows, my Lord.” Mactar replied dryly.

Amorak frowned. “I have given thought to your idea about seeking out the Drake, and I agree. To be able to control the Ryakul is too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“I’m glad you agree,” Mactar replied.

“I assume you mean to leave as soon as possible,” High King Amorak said.

“Yes, but there is something that has come to my attention regarding your daughter.”

“Has she returned?”

Mactar noted the lack of concern in the High King’s tone. "No, I’m afraid she has not. You have spoken with Rordan at length about the events that occurred at Shandara. I’ve meditated on the events myself and have come to a realization that not only has your daughter allied herself with the Alenzar’seth, but she has fallen in love with the man.”

The High King turned, sweeping his gaze around the practice yard, not saying anything, but the air felt to have dropped a few degrees. Mactar would have sworn he saw the slightest of twitches upon the High King’s face. So he does still care or is it a matter of pride and possession, Mactar wondered.

“I allowed her to expend her energies with the so called ‘Resistance’ at my pleasure, but this … ” The High King bit off his last word and turned to face Mactar with a smoldering gaze. “This is unforgivable. The defiance of my daughter will not go unanswered.”

Mactar smirked inwardly, but maintained his composure. “What do you intend to do, my Lord?”

“Do?" the High King said then smiled mirthlessly. “She dug her own grave, and now she will lie in it. My course of action will not change. The Alenzar’seth will die. By my hand if need be.”

“And Lady Sarah?” Mactar asked.

The High King eyed him. “You always did have a soft spot for her blonde looks. Very much like her mother.”

“She has always been quite gifted,” Mactar said, which was an understatement given that she had kept at bay the machinations of her half brothers, the Elitesmen, and himself.

“She will live,” the High King said, “and learn the price of defiance. If she was foolish enough to actually fall in love with the enemy then so much harsher the lesson.”

Mactar nodded and was silent as his eyes drifted toward every shadowed corner, looking for Tarimus but not finding him.

“I’m sending Rordan to the arena at day’s end,” the High King said.

“Then I will plan to leave soon thereafter to track down the Drake,” Mactar said.

“And how do you plan to do that exactly?" the High King asked.

“By tracking the Ryakul as well as a few other tricks I know,” Mactar answered, growing more anxious for the day to end. He could leave now, but he was due to meet with Darven. The former Elitesman had become an asset and was yet another way to put the young Heir of Shandara off balance, but Mactar was ever watchful to see that Darven did not become overly ambitious. Darven had been with the late Prince Tye when they had attacked Aaron’s home in a realm called Earth. Mactar would use any means to ensure victory and survival, which included sacrificing his apprentice to Aaron should the need arise. The real victory for him would be to bring down the barrier and allow the other Hythariam faction their due, letting the glories of war ensue and feeding real innovation with the whole world as his playground.

The High King strode over to his son, and the activities in the practice yard ceased. Mactar’s eyes scanned the faces amid the crowd, and he saw a pale face with lifeless black eyes peering back at him, but when he blinked it was gone. He quickly strode over to the spot, but could see nothing to indicate anyone was there other then the men who were already there.