A look of realization filled Rellen’s features. “So, you are one of them,” he growled. “Another one of that bitch-goddess’s vile, stinking demons.” He spat on the deck.

  Toreth chuckled. “Only a human could be so completely wrong on all counts.” He looked over his shoulder and stared at Mygal for a moment. “Here, let me show you something.” He strode over and stood beside the young Guardian, whose face filled with fear. Mygal strained against the chains. When Toreth turned back to Rellen, his eyes flared with green flames, and the malevolent smile on his face sent a shock of terror along Rellen’s spine. He lifted his right index finger, where a bright, ruby, pinpoint of light glowed. Holding Mygal’s head in an iron grip, he traced a line straight down Mygal’s cheek. Blood flowed. Mygal’s scream pierced the air, echoing along the docks. He jerked and twisted against the chains, but he couldn’t escape Toreth’s torture.

  Rellen surged, but the guards behind him clamped their hands around his arms and held him in place.

  Toreth laughed as he turned Mygal’s head. Mygal strained against it, but to no avail. Toreth ran another bloody line down Mygal’s other cheek. Again, Mygal let out an agonized scream. The guards all started laughing, delighting in the young Guardian’s pain.

  “Enough!” Jaquinn surged within his chains and bashed his forehead into the face of the guard who held the dagger at his throat. The guard staggered back as Jaquinn tipped backwards. He gave Rellen one last look, his eyes still full of fury, and then toppled over the railing.

  Everyone turned.

  “Jaquinn!” Rellen screamed as the big man disappeared over the railing. A short length of chain dangling from his feet clattered against the railing as Jaquinn fell. It slapped once against the wood and followed the Guardian over. There was a mighty splash.

  Blind rage and anguish surged through Rellen’s breast.

  Toreth glanced at the spot where Jaquinn had disappeared. “That is a pity.” He let out a long, disappointed breath and strode across the deck, stopping only a few feet away from Rellen. “Javyk and I were looking forward to savoring every last drop of him.”

  “I’ll kill you!” Rellen shouted. Fueled by hatred, he broke free from the guards, surged forward, and wrapped his hands around Toreth’s throat.

  Toreth never moved, and a reptilian smile crimped his lips.

  The thrum of four small crossbows filled the air. Rellen felt a sharp pain in his arm.

  His vision blurred. His hands went numb. His fingers loosened around Toreth’s throat and slipped free to dangle at the ends of limp arms.

  “Good night, Guardian. It took a month for Javyk and one of my cabals to open the way for me. You know what I’m talking about.” As Rellen’s vision darkened and his knees wobbled, Toreth leaned in. “What took them a month to do to this body, I’m going to do to yours in a day.”

  Rellen! Xilly’s panicked thought hammered through the fog that surrounded Rellen’s consciousness. Rellen could only manage one thought.

  Save Jaquinn… save your…self…

  The darkness swallowed him like he was a stone tossed into the sea.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Prisoners

  A cacophony of bird calls filtered into Rellen’s slowly returning consciousness. A dozen other animal sounds—monkeys?—added themselves to the chorus. The air was hot… humid… even more so than it had been aboard the ship. He wasn’t on the ship anymore. He knew that. There was no rocking, no motion, and the shriek of gulls was noticeably absent.

  His thoughts were fuzzy, unfocused. He struggled to think clearly. Bit by bit, enough clarity came for him to realize his shoulders hurt. And his arms. His chest felt tight, as if some heavy weight was pressing into it.

  A single, low, thrumming voice—in a strange, guttural language Rellen didn’t recognize—filtered into his awareness. Like nothing else in his experience, he could sense the power of majea flowing with it. The language seemed strangely familiar, as if he’d heard it before, but he couldn’t place where. The words crescendoed and cut off. In that moment, two things happened, and one of them Rellen wouldn’t have thought was possible. Deep in his mind, he sensed a distant buzzing, as if there were an insect locked away inside his skull somewhere. But there was something else. He tried to wrap his mind around what he was feeling. Something was very wrong. Then it occurred to him that the problem lay in what he wasn’t feeling. Something that had been with him since he was a teen had disappeared.

  He reached within himself, tried to tap into the majea that had been with him for almost as long as he could remember, and… nothing. It wasn’t there. It had been cut off. He knew—he’d been taught—that such a thing wasn’t possible. He reached for his majea once again, straining against the emptiness like a man in utter darkness straining to see, but there was nothing.

  He opened his eyes to find a slim man in black and blue robes walking away from him, moving toward a large campfire with a circle of stumps set around it. Bright, tropical sunshine filled a wide clearing within what had to be an immense jungle. Tall trees rose above them, and there were several fresh stumps just at the edge of the clearing, with the felled trees laying on their sides. It looked like the shrubs and vines in the clearing had also been recently cleared away.

  Toreth! Rellen blinked his eyes several times to try and clear the haze. It was Toreth sun’Harrai, and he held the plunnokum in his hand. Rellen feared they stood upon the precipice of whatever lay at the center of Toreth’s designs, and there was nothing he could do about it. He reached vainly for his majea once again, fighting against the fog that filled his thoughts, but he found nothing to grab onto. Desperation filled him.

  Xilly? he called out. Are you there?

  There was no reply.

  He tried to move and realized he couldn’t. He glanced to his right to find his arm outstretched and secured to a wagon with stout chain at wrist and elbow. He still wore his leather armor, but the chain was also wrapped around his torso, secured with a padlock that dangled over his breast. The chains around that arm also secured Miranda’s arm, with Mygal and Tavyn similarly secured and unconscious on the other side of her. Their bodies sagged against their bonds. All of their weapons were gone, and his bandoleer and belt were also missing.

  On the ground, laid out in the shape of a box surrounding Rellen and the others, were four dark stones that glowed with an ethereal, emerald light. They were just beyond the reach of his legs, and beams of flowing majea connected them. He could feel the power emanating from them, like heat pouring off of a red-hot brand. The stones must be what had cut off his majea, but such a thing wasn’t supposed to be possible. This was a magic he’d never even heard of.

  He glared at Toreth. “What have you done?” The words came out slurred. His tongue felt like it was wrapped in wool.

  Toreth turned at the sound. A slim smile spread across his face. He cocked his head to the side and peered at Rellen, as if he were inspecting an animal before deciding if he should stable or slaughter it.

  Rellen struggled to get his feet beneath him. His knees wobbled. He sagged again, marshaling what little strength he had. He steadied himself and stood up, as much as the chains allowed. Voices on the other side of the wagon caught his ear.

  “It seems I finished my work just in time,” Toreth said, stepping away from the campfire. “I must admit, it wasn’t easy.” He held up the plunnokum. “This helped.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if he’d undertaken something strenuous. “I am glad you’re awake.” He shifted his focus to the right of the wagon. “Javyk, come here, and bring the others,” he called out. “It is time.”

  “I asked you a question,” Rellen snapped. The fog in his head was clearing quickly. He felt a bit more like himself—except for his majea.

  Miranda groaned, and then Mygal.

  “Not that I’m inclined to answer any of your questions, human,” Toreth said, “but I’ll grant you this one. Still, I would have thought the answer was obvious, even to you. And here I thought Guardians were supposed to be intelligent.” He chuckled lightly. “The answer is that I’ve denied you access to your majea.”

  “That’s not possible,” Rellen whispered.

  “For humans,” Toreth said. “Perhaps I gave you too much credit.” He rolled his eyes. “Your race can be so very obtuse. Putting it simply, I’ve prevented your puny mind from accessing a power you never should have had to begin with. It took me a very long time to come up with something like this, but it will be most useful in the future. Today, it is merely a convenience.”

  “When was Toreth possessed by you, demon?”

  “Demon…?” Toreth mused. “I suppose that word is as good as any.” Again, he seemed to be talking to himself. He finally locked eyes with Rellen. “But you’re less than half-right.”

  Javyk, in his black robes, came around the side of the wagon, with ten guards in the king’s livery behind him. Rellen didn’t recognized any from the ship. He had to wonder how many in Kaichakahn willingly served Toreth and how many had been converted to his will. Did he now control the entire city? The duchy?

  “You called for us, Master,” Javyk said with a slight bow.

  “They’re waking… and my efforts,” he motioned toward the glowing lines of light at Rellen’s feet, “have been successful.”

  “Was there ever any doubt?” Javyk replied.

  “No,” Toreth replied. “I’ve prepared for so long. My toehold in this place is about to become an entrenchment.” Toreth glanced at the jungle behind him, as if there were something there. “It’s time for me to undo that thrice-cursed lock.” There was pure venom in his voice. He turned back to Javyk. “The prisoners should give you no trouble at all, and that spell should last long enough to give me ample time to do what I must and return. Make sure they don’t escape those chains and that none of them dies.”

  “It will be as you wish, Master.” Javyk hesitated for just a moment. He licked his lips, as if he were starving but feared of asking for a crust of bread.

  “What is it, pet?” Toreth said, and there was a strange affection in his voice.

  “Forgive me, but I had hoped you might grant me the gift of at least one of them to entertain myself and feed while you went below. May I… may I have just one of them, my lord?” Javyk looked first at Rellen and then the others.

  “I think not. I’ll need Rellen and his companions for the next phase of my plans. They should make perfect instruments for my designs.”

  “Please… just one.” The sound of it filled Rellen with disgust and dread.

  Toreth let out a long breath, his face a mask of deep thought. “Very well,” he finally said. “Take that one… on the end.” He pointed at Mygal. “You can finish what I started. Of the two, his gifts are the weakest.”

  The statement confused Rellen. Mygal might be the weakest, but, including Miranda and himself, there were three kurioi.

  Mygal’s blackened eyes, still somewhat dazed by whatever poison they’d used, suddenly went wide with fear.

  “Perfect!” Javyk said with a good deal of enthusiasm. “We’ll have no difficulty at all with him.”

  “Then let it be done,” Toreth replied with a dismissive hand. With the plunnokum in hand, he turned and strode past the campfire. A dozen paces later, he vanished before their eyes, as if he’d walked through a curtain.

  “What the—?” Rellen blurted.

  “Where did he go?” Miranda blinked several times at the spot where Toreth had disappeared.

  “Welcome to Stukelladios,” Javyk said with a good deal of enthusiasm. He turned to the two largest guards and pointed at Mygal. “Release that one. Be sure not to disturb the stones.”

  “Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

  The captain handed one of them a ring of keys.

  “You may have to incapacitate him first,” Javyk offered with a good deal of enthusiasm. “I suspect he’ll fight vigorously the moment those chains are released. I know I would.”

  The guards crossed over to Mygal, who again struggled fiercely, but the chains held him tight.

  “You bastards!” he screamed. “I’ll kill you both! I’ll kill all of you!”

  “Wretch,” Rellen growled, glaring at Javyk. “If I get out of these chains, I’m going to cut your heart out.”

  Javyk smiled. “Now you sound like a servant of my master. Don’t worry, you’ll be cutting hearts out soon enough. They just won’t be mine.”

  The guards stepped up in front of Mygal, careful to avoid even getting near the stones. Mygal stopped struggling and went limp.

  That’s it. Suck them in. Look for an opening. Fight, Rellen thought. He hoped the young informant planned on kicking the nearest stone. If Toreth’s magic was broken, they might have a chance. Mygal could influence them. Miranda might be able to wound them. Rellen… well… he wasn’t sure what he’d do. Much of his magic was stored up in the objects in his bandoleer and pouches. He only had a few useful spells that he could cast without a material component.

  One of the guards reared back an arm and swung hard. His fist struck Mygal’s jaw with a wet, meaty thwack. Mygal’s head snapped around and came back with a spray of blood. His eyes rolled. His tongue lolled. The guard hit him again. And again.

  Mygal sagged in the chains, unconscious. Blood spilled from his mouth and nose.

  “You miserable bastards!” Rellen screamed.

  Javyk laughed.

  The other guard used a key to open the lock dangling in front of Mygal’s chest. When he was free, they took a firm grip on his arms and carefully dragged his body toward the campfire.

  “You two,” Javyk pointed at two more guards. “Help carry him. I want him tied down before he regains consciousness. The rest of you can relax around the fire, if you like, but stay here and keep an eye on them. If they try to escape, feel free to beat them. Just don’t kill them. If any of them dies, you’ll all answer to the master.”

  “Yes sir,” they replied.

  The guard with the key ring tossed them back to the captain, who caught them and slipped them into his belt.

  The other two guards moved over and picked up Mygal’s legs. Javyk led them past the campfire, and moments later, they too disappeared. Rellen’s eyes shifted back and forth, trying to find something—anything that would create such an illusion. There was nothing. The jungle seemed undisturbed, extending out into green shadows and shafts of light for as far as he could see.

  “What can we do?” Miranda hissed at Rellen, panic filling her eyes.

  “We’ve got to do something,” Tavyn said quietly.

  The same old fear clutched at Rellen’s heart—of losing someone he was responsible for. Mygal was about to be butchered, and he had no way to stop it. He thought furiously, trying to come up with some idea of how they might escape, but nothing came.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Revelation

  Rellen dug deep, drawing strength from his desperation. He strained against the chains… shifted, twisted, jerked against them. He struggled to get free with everything he had, screaming out his anger, frustration, and fear. He finally sagged back into the chains, gasping.

  The guards sitting casually around the campfire laughed.

  “Save your strength, Guardian,” the captain called out. “You’re going to need it once Master Toreth gets back.”

  “Traitor,” Rellen barked.

  “Traitor?” The captain gave Rellen a disgusted look. “I serve my people. Look at my hair, my skin.” He had black hair and dark skin of Nikostohr. “The king of Pelinon conquered my people… consumed them. I serve Toreth because he wants us to be free of the Pelinese yoke.”

  “That was over a hundred years ago, and Pelinon didn’t start that war, Nikostohr did when they invaded Aradeen and tried to sack Jabono. Nikostohr started a fight it couldn’t finish, and all because their king was a fool.”

  “You can—” the captain started.

  “What?” Javyk’s angry shout rose from up beyond the illusory curtain. His voice was distant and muffled, as if it had come from inside a building. Several moments passed. “Go get more rope, you imbecile!”

  One of the guards seemed to appear out of thin air and entered the clearing. He headed straight for the back of the wagon, and as he did, a small, dark shadow passed over the thick grass covering the ground only a few feet behind the guards.

  Rellen looked up.

  Xilly! he cried as she passed overhead.

  There was no answer as she circled back and looked straight down at him.

  You can’t help us. Get out of here! There was nothing she could do, and then she’d die too. Save yourself, little one…

  Still, she said nothing. Had she heard him? Maybe Toreth’s magic prevented that as well. The buzzing in his mind was still present. He shook his head, trying to break free of it, but it remained, a sliver in his mind that wouldn’t come loose. Not since that first nuraghi had Rellen felt so completely defeated…

  Xilly disappeared from sight, passing over the wagon and, presumably, into the trees.

  Please don’t try anything, Rellen thought.

  The guard Javyk sent out moved around to the back of the wagon. He rummaged through whatever lay inside for a few moments and then stopped abruptly.

  “Hey!” His surprised shout made everyone turn their heads.

  The sickly wet sound of steel cleaving meat and bone filled the air. The guard’s head tumbled out into view, rolling a short distance toward the campfire. There was no mistaking the sound of a crumpling body against soft earth. Twin gouts of blood spurted out from behind the wagon, spraying onto the surprised look filling the face of the severed head.