Shattered Destiny (16 page)

Robert glanced to the right at a group of men coming their way. All bore a black patch on their boiled leather vests. The people milling about gave them a wide berth, bowing and backing away.

“What's your business here?” The man who spoke was burly, with a mean and nasty face.

“Just passing through.” Robert tried to sound nonchalant.

“Where you from?’ The man spit at the feet of Robert's mount.

The Astrans had warned him that someone might ask this question, so he was ready. “Eastern continent. Vis Relissa.”

“You don't talk like you are from Vis.” The man stared at them with his beady eyes.

“I suppose you know the tongues of all who live on both continents?” Robert tried to emulate his General's most disdainful icy-eyed glare. On Earth, one look from General Smith sent men scurrying.

The man's face turned red and he balled up his fists. “You better mind that smart mouth, mister.” He took a step forward.

Robert clenched his jaw and tightened his hands on the reins. His mount, sensing the change in his rider's tension, began to toss his head. Things were taking an ugly turn. He glanced at Feeror and Kyron, who were already moving their mounts to take up better defensive positions. Number 4 simply sat on its horse, blandly looking at the scene unfolding in the streets.

”Something the matter, Hogar?” A third man approached.

Robert winced when he saw the feverish light in the man's black eyes and the awful scar that twisted his face into a permanent snarl.

Hogar stopped advancing. “Just going to teach this man a lesson in manners.” He cracked his knuckles.

“For what? Wearing those pathetic rags or riding a horse that would be better suited for meat? Surely there are more important
things to occupy your time than picking on ignorant villagers.” The man gave Hogar a pointed stare.

“Yes sir.” Hogar pushed unfortunate villagers out of his way as he barreled down the street.

The man with the scar turned back to Robert. “Now then, since you're obviously not from around here, I'll tell you the rules. One: no handouts allowed. It only encourages the beggars. Two: you may only purchase items from licensed vendors. If you are caught buying anything from someone not wearing the badge, you will be arrested. Three: no practicing magic of any kind. If you are caught, you will be put to the question and killed.”

Robert did not know what to say so he simply nodded. He felt out of place and feared his pounding heart and sweaty palms would give them away. The plan required that everyone be at their appointed places when Jon broke Brok out of the jail. They could ill afford to be taken prisoner themselves or the plan would surely fail.

Robert breathed a sigh of relief when the man sauntered down the street. The villagers did not look at him as he passed.

“That's him! Fa’ Vel!”

Robert nearly jumped out of his skin as Gwen's whisper sounded at his left stirrup. She spoke so low that not even Kyron and Feeror heard a word.

“There is nothing to be done about it. We must take up positions.” He took a deep breath and urged his horse forward. His heart raced as Kyron and Feeror left his side, looking perfectly at ease, moving their horses to their designated spots.

He tried his best to look bored and as unassuming as possible.
How do they do it?
Robert felt a flash of jealousy. The Volgons did not seem at all concerned that they would soon be in a fight for their lives.

The stone prison was just ahead and to the right. It had two guards, one door, and no windows. Robert noted that the building was attached to the south wing of the Patriarch's castle. He prayed that Brok was in a cell on the outside wall. If he were located in an interior cell, it would make the rescue much more difficult.

Robert was curious about the Patriarch.
What sort of leader lets a man like Fa’ Vel take over his city?
There was no sign of any royal
soldiers or fighters. “Twas a sad day when they killed his family.”

Robert glanced down and noticed an old man sitting against the wall. He wore filthy rags, and the smell emanating from him reminded Robert of curdled milk. “Pardon?”

The man pointed his chin at the castle. “I noticed you staring at Mordaen's palace. I also noticed you ain't from these parts. Figured you might want to know a little about Faerow.” The man coughed loudly.

“I am curious why the Patriarch allowed this to happen.” Robert gestured with his arm.

“It happened so fast. Fa’ Vel came to town with his band of thugs, carrying on about the end of days and telling everyone who would listen about what he seen in the cave.” The man doubled over with a coughing fit. His face turned an alarming shade of red. Robert started to dismount, but the man waved him off. “Got the lung sickness. Nothing to be done.”

“Isn't there a sawbones, or someone who knows about herbs and healing?”

The man barked a laugh. “Not anymore there ain't. Fa’ Vel had them all put to death. The people of the city didn't put up too much of a fight. After all, they's scared of the prophets and seers and herb mistresses. They have been foretelling of the doom of Astra as well, you see. That's why people believed Fa’ Vel and his crazy story about people disappearing into the rock.”

Robert knew that the man had indeed seen just that when Brok and his Chosen had departed this planet for Gentra.

“Mordaen tried to stop the killing, but it's too hard to stop it when there're more folks that want to see the deed done than don't.” The man turned to the side and spit a huge wad of bloody mucus. “Then his family was taken, because he refused to cooperate with the murders. Fa’ Vel had them burned alive.”

Robert clenched his jaw. He knew all too well what some men were capable of. He had seen much the same when the Horde or the Cowboys attacked. Although most knew that any who were captured often suffered much worse fates.

The old man gave Robert a knowing stare. “If I didn't know any better, I would say you's waiting for something big to happen.
You're strung as tight as a lute string, son.”

“Waiting for someone, actually. I want to get my business done and leave this place,” Robert said.

He was about to ask the old man more about the black badges when all hell broke loose. Everything seemed to happen at once. The side of the jail exploded in a shower of rock and debris. At the same time, the guards fell silently where they stood, the victims of some unseen foe.

Unseen until the magic shield dropped, revealing the Chosen sheathing their bloodied blades. The terrified villagers moved toward the gate, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until the square was a mass of thrashing, screaming people, all moving toward the main entrance to the city.

Robert's horse reared, and it was all he could do to stay in the saddle and watch for Fa’ Vel's men. Kyron and Feeror dispatched some of the men with black badges who were closing in on the site of the explosion.

Jon emerged from the dust near the jail, leading Brok. The Mystic had been kept in pitch dark for days, and the sudden return to daylight had left him temporarily blinded. Jon looked frantically for Keera. She was in charge of getting the old man safely out of the city. He spotted her trying to make her way through the throngs of people making for the gate.

Suddenly, the people flew to the sides, as if they had been blown over by a strong gust of wind. Keera did not hesitate. She plunged ahead, stopping her mount so quickly that she nearly toppled off the back end. She reached down a hand for the blind Mystic and wheeled her horse back around to face the gate.

She used the power to force the fleeing townsfolk out of her path to freedom.

“Stop them, you fools!” Fa’ Vel appeared at a balcony overlooking the square. His face was livid, and his eyes blazed black fury. He sent fireballs at Keera, but the girl managed to avoid the attack.

At the sound of his enraged shriek, the gates of the Patriarch's castle flew open and his minions poured out like cockroaches. They used magic and steel to fight those who had come to rescue the
Mystic.

Robert found himself hard-pressed, fighting three men wearing black badges. He slashed downward with his knife, trying to guide his mare to a better defensive position. The terrified animal was not used to battle, and she fought with Robert rather than allow him to guide her to safety.

Robert cried out as his mare threw him to the ground, both of her front legs slashed out from under her by one of the toughs. He hit the dirt hard, and yet he was able to get to his feet in seconds and defend a vicious blow meant to take his head from his shoulders. Robert pulled the man in close. He could see the man's eyes widen in puzzlement and took advantage of the surprise move. While still holding onto the man's sword hand, Robert kicked hard with his right leg, smashing into the man's unprotected abdomen. The man crumpled and fell to his knees, no longer able to draw breath with his torn diaphragm and broken sternum. Robert stabbed his knife through the enemy's unprotected throat, barely noticing the hot splash of blood as he ripped his blade free.

He turned at a woman's scream and saw the Volgon warrior Seelyr take a knife to the back. Robert bellowed and ran to her, hurling his knife at the man's chest. His accuracy was perfect. The blow knocked the man on his back.

Seelyr lay in the dirt, her breath coming in gasps. Robert turned her over and winced when he saw the silver point of the blade poking through her skin. Frothy blood flowed from her mouth and Robert knew that her lung was punctured.

“Leave me. I am done for. Protect the others, Earthman.” She had a surprisingly strong grip for one who was on the verge of death.

“I will try to find one of the Astrans. They can heal you.” Robert laid her on her side and jumped to his feet.

The square was full of smoke. Several of the buildings were on fire. Just then a fireball came whizzing out of the smoke, catching one of Fa’ Vel's men in the chest. He dropped his knife, and his gut-wrenching scream rent the air. He ran forward a few steps before dropping to his knees. Robert fought a wave of nausea as he caught a whiff of his burning flesh. He thought it smelled like roast boar.

He ran toward the fireball's point of origin and found Gwen covered in blood and soot.

“I need you little one. Seelyr is badly injured.”

Gwen nodded and followed as quickly as her stunted legs could carry her. “Look out!” She screamed as she gave Robert a hard shove with the power. He hit the ground with a thud and groaned as he felt something large land on his exposed back. Just as quickly, the weight was gone, and he could breathe again.

Robert grimaced as he stood. One of Fa’ Vel's men lay on his back, eyes glazed in death. He could not see any wounds on the man and wanted to ask Gwen what she had done.
On second thought, maybe I don't want to know.

Gwen was at Seelyr's side. The look on her face told Robert that she would be unable to heal the stricken woman. “We need Saemus and Kaelin, or Jon. I'm not strong enough.” The tiny girl struggled to her feet, looking helplessly at the throng of people running through the streets and heading for the safety of the open gates, wondering how she was ever going to be able to move through them fast enough to find the twins or Jon Stone.

Robert felt as if things were spinning out of control. He had been able to keep Tess Golden from his thoughts during the fighting, but seeing Seelyr lying in a growing pool of blood brought her face flooding back into his mind. He tried to focus on an image of her while she had been alive, but it kept changing to her lying on her pallet, hazel eyes filmy with death, throat open in that red, ragged wound, blood dripping onto the wood floor.

If we lose a second Chosen, we are finished.

He left Gwen with Seelyr and sent his thoughts to the telepaths, praying to God that one of them was near the twins or the boy.
Will God even hear me on this planet?

--We have relayed your thoughts to the twins. They are attempting to heal one of my comrades, and they will be with you as soon as they can.

--What about the boy? The one they call Jon Stone? Robert did not think that Seelyr had much time.

--I have yet to make contact with that one.

--Has anyone else been injured? Robert feared the answer.

--Several. It is difficult to make sense of everyone's thoughts at this moment. You all seem incapable of focusing in times of stress. Fascinating, really.

Robert fought a rush of rage and frustration. He could make out the faint sounds of moaning and screaming coming from all directions. How many of the cries were Chosen and how many from townfolk, he did not know. --Did Brok and Keera make it to safety?

--No. They were ambushed just before they reached the main gate.

Robert gritted his teeth. --Are they injured?

A pause and then, --They are not mortally wounded.

Gwen's cry of despair cut short his communication with the telepath. Robert ran to her and Seelyr, fearing the worst.

Gwen held the now dead woman's head in her lap, her tears falling gently on Seelyr's face. Robert sank to his knees. He reached out with a trembling hand and closed her eyes, sending up a prayer to God, trying to take comfort in the familiar words. He scanned the streets for Fa’ Vel or his men, but there was no sign of them. A few of the townsfolk peered out from barely opened doors or from behind curtains, wanting nothing to do with the group that had brought more bloodshed to their town.

“No! It cannot be!”

Robert turned and stared dully at Brok. His eyes were red-rimmed and watery. He rubbed them and blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision.

Brok sank to his knees next to Seelyr and laid his hands over her face. Robert could not hear the words he whispered, but his skin prickled. He gasped in revulsion as he saw the woman's chest rise and fall while thickened blooded dripped from the wound on her chest. Blood poured from her open mouth.

“It's too late. She is with the good Spirits now.” Brok sighed and sat back heavily.

He looked up as Gerok and Forka came running toward them, emerging like ghosts from the smoke. Gerok's face was hard as stone. He stood over Seelyr, gazing at her eyes, unblinking and vacant.