Light of Epertase 01: Legends Reborn (19 page)

Rasi shrugged his shoulders.

“I think Tevin’s been ordered to kill you. He is not going to find you and bring you in; he is going to kill you. Once again, Rasi, you are a wanted man.”

Terik walked to the double barn doors and creaked one of them open. He turned back to Rasi. “I went to Puimia to visit you a few summers back. Your parents said you never returned. I thought we had a deal.”

Rasi looked away.

“Take all the time you need out here, friend. I must leave. I command a battalion now and I’ve been ordered back from my furlough. Word has it that foreign invaders have come from the western sea and have occupied the Wastelands.”

Rasi glanced up.
There’s life beyond the seas?

“They move toward Lithia as we speak. They do not seem friendly. I believe Epertase is about to go to war. We could use a soldier like you right now.”

Rasi snarled. He would never help those who banished him, even if all was forgiven and the offer was there.

“Help yourself to whatever you need. Hopefully, our paths will cross again one day in this world.” He took in a deep breath and held it for a moment. Then he added, “Or the next.”

After Terik left, the barn became as cold and lonely as Rasi’s cave. He waited until he was sure Terik was away and then limped toward the house. The door was unlocked, which was typical of Terik and his wife, Celia. Inside, little had changed since he was forced to the mountains so many years before. The furniture was a little older and a little more worn but the pride in Celia’s upkeep was apparent.

Rasi wondered why Celia wasn’t home, but that would be a question for another day. Sitting in the corner of the main room was Terik’s well crafted, oak desk. His back ached just remembering the day he helped Terik move it from the barn after the Heathen War.

Rasi pulled at the second drawer first, but it was stuck. He wiggled and yanked it until it shimmied halfway out. He snickered, finding it amusing that Terik considered himself a craftsman, yet he didn’t account for the swelling of wood when he built the drawers. The top drawer opened a little easier, but not much. That’s where he found the ink and quill. He scribbled a note:

Princess Alina awakened on a stained, damp mattress that stunk of mildew and rot. Most of its feather stuffing had spilled onto the stone floor; she might as well have slept on a rock. A torch hung on the wall in front of her. She sat up but was immediately forced to hunch over so as not to bang her head on the low ceiling. Her jaw ached. Her back hurt.

She reached out to the cold, coarse wall. Gaping structural cracks trickled water from near the top. Bugs scurried from one hole to the next, hiding from the flame of the nearby torch.

Alina trembled and drew her knees to her chest. Her bare toes were numb. She wore dirty, gray rags, more fitting a prisoner in an uncivilized society than a princess. She shuddered at the thought of those creatures touching her, changing her clothes. The rags draped from her arms and shoulders, several sizes too big, and she clutched them against her body for warmth.

She felt ten years old again, hiding in her closet from the nightmares of the monster that killed her grandparents. This room, she slowly realized, would be her tomb, but she wasn’t about to give up. What kind of queen would she one day make if she gave up when things were toughest? They hadn’t yet killed her for some reason, which meant she had time. She had hope.

She pulled the torch from the wall and swiped it along the floor. A mouse darted away from her flame and into a hole in her mattress. By the foot of her bed was a small, box-sized wooden door. She wiggled it, hopeful. The door creaked outward.

She could fit through.

Maybe.

She lay on her belly, stretched her arms above her head, and pushed with her legs until her hips wedged in the doorway.
How did they get me in here?
she wondered. The top of the scuttle hole scraped along her back, gouging her skin. She emptied her lungs, pivoted, and slithered through.

The hole opened into a large, round pit long ago created with dirt walls and sinister intentions, stretching higher than she could possibly climb. The pit had no ceiling, instead opening into another larger, darkened room that flickered with shadows and rang with laughter along its edge. She looked back at the would-be tomb she had just escaped and her torch revealed a faint, door-shaped crease with a rusted lock in a hasp.

Ah, that’s how.

She stumbled across the dirt floor, holding the torch closer to the walls. Several hundred-legged worms slithered from the wall, scattered away from her flame, and bore new holes to disappear into.

She tripped but kept herself from falling. She looked to her feet. The floor was littered with rotted hunks of scrap lumber. She gathered several pieces into a pile and set her torch to it. The welcomed heat beat against her face. She inched closer, rubbing her hands together over the flames. Before long, her numb toes felt the stinging needles of fresh blood flow.

Exhausted, she lay on her side, drew her arms and legs to her chest, and shivered herself to sleep.

It couldn’t have been long when Blog startled her awake from the opposite side of the pit. “Hey, Princess,” he shouted. She scurried back against the wall, away from his torment. His massive body hid behind a metal gate that she hadn’t noticed before.

He wore an evil grin. “Bath time,” he said with a chuckle.

A blast of freezing water dropped from the pit opening above onto her head. Her muscles clenched and she gasped, momentarily unable to move. Blog retreated up a stone-lined stairwell, his laughing continuing until long after the cruel shower had ended.

With each of her movements, the wet fabric of her garment dragged along her skin, sending new waves of shivers through her body. She stripped the rags away and crawled naked back to her fire.
Cold and dry is better than cold and wet,
she told herself as she outstretched her rags along the floor near the heat. Again she lay on the hard ground with her knees to her chest, hugging herself, containing what little warmth was left in her flesh. Her calves cramped.

If these creatures didn’t kill her, she was sure the cold would. She tried to sleep again but her clattering teeth wouldn’t let her. She thought about giving up.

Then, as all hope seemed lost, something warm, almost hot, glided across her foot and along her leg. She was too cold to move. Whatever it was, another one slid across her thigh. Though she feared what she might find, she gathered the courage and strength to lift her head enough to look toward her legs. Some kind of odd snake slithered over her hip and onto the ground alongside her. The creature was red and blue and green and beautiful. It snuggled against her pale thigh. Then another one rose from the dirt floor and brushed against her chest, followed by another, and another until she was buried beneath their feverish flesh. She hadn’t the strength to fight them off and disappeared beneath their swarm.

Colorfuls?
she wondered.

Her body stopped shivering; her teeth stopped their rattle.

Rasi, I need you,
she thought as she drifted to sleep.

“My lord.” Anxiety rose in the messenger’s voice. “I bring news from Paisel. He has been attacked.”

King Elijah accepted the messenger’s satchel before dismissing him. He called for James to gather the war council for an evening meeting.

Elijah bowed his head while sitting at his throne; he had much to ponder.

When evening arrived, he stood outside the two large doors of his war room and took a deep breath. No king wanted to be in this room and he was no different. The sheer weight of the room was crushing.

A long, oval table was in the center of the room, surrounded by fourteen burgundy-cushioned chairs. On the back of each chair was a bronze-plated plaque that identified each of his commanders and their titles. A wall-sized map of Epertase and its neighbors hung behind the King’s identical chair. Elijah studied the map as he awaited the arrival of his commanders.

First was Aidric. “Sir, my battalion is ready and eager to fight the Teks. Just give the word.”

“Be seated, Aidric. We have much to discuss.”

Terik entered next and took his assigned seat.

Aidric added, “Any word on the Princess, your highness?”

He replied, “Not yet. But I have dispatched Tevin the Third to the mountains to flush out that savage, Rasi, as we speak.”

Terik raised his curious eyes from his paperwork, which wasn’t lost on Elijah.

Aidric again spoke. “My lord, I do not question your decisions, but is it wise to focus all of your attention on one lead? Couldn’t Rasi have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time? After all, we have all heard the stories of his heroic service in your father’s army.”

“And you’ve heard the stories of his rape and murders? What about Lorca? You knew him; he was your friend. Trust me, Aidric, I commanded Rasi during the Heathen Wars and I know what he is capable of doing. Besides, Tevin the Third is a skillful tracker and I have no doubt he will follow any lead that might arise.”

“My apologies for questioning you, sir. Tevin is indeed a gifted tracker. I have no doubt he will be successful.”

“I appreciate your concern for my daughter, but we have other matters to discuss.” The King slid his own chair beneath the table and stood behind it.

Captain Jarrah entered and took his seat. He spoke without being asked. “The mercenaries shouldn’t be an issue, your highness. I spoke to each of them personally.”

“Very good, Jarrah.”

“Any chance you would let me join Tevin’s search?” he asked.

Elijah smiled. “I know your wife is worried, Jarrah, but I am quite sure your brother-in-law is capable of handling Rasi.”

“I know. And I agree. It’s just that she gets worried when he’s away on such a dangerous mission.”

Brothers Andon and Dru were the next to arrive, followed by Tate, then Masera, the recently promoted commander of the Elite Guard. The room filled with commanders, all with encouraging words concerning the search for Alina.

Elijah cleared his throat, silencing the room; all of the men were aware of why they were there.

“Now that you are all assembled,” Elijah said. “We have word the Tek army will likely attack Lithia within the week.”

No one said a word. Jarrah looked around at the sober faces before standing. “Sir, Lithia is but a quarter of our size. If the rumors are true about the invaders, Lithia will be decimated.”

Andon spoke up, “We must help them. It is time for Epertase to go to war.”

His brother, Dru, agreed. “We have family there, friends there.”

“And I as well,” Tate shouted.

Waving his hands to calm his friends, Elijah spoke. “This is why we are here – to discuss this matter.”

Andon, still agitated, shouted, “My battalion is ready for war now.”

King Elijah shook his head, “Andon, this is a time to use our heads not our hearts. I have weighed our options as I see them and have arrived at some very hard choices. I understand all of your concerns and share them as well. I have offered King Logan and his people refuge, but he has declined. He is a proud man and his soldiers will die under his command. As much as I would like to fight alongside him, the enemy moves too fast. To move our entire army, and to do it right, would take weeks, maybe months.”

“Just send several battalions,” Tate interrupted.

“If we divide our forces, we will be weakened and unable to protect our own people. Therein lies my dilemma. I am looking to all of you for advice.”