Chapter 19

When Ciardis awoke, she lay in a small dark, bedroom on a pallet on the floor. Wincing, she realized that her throat was sore from whatever the Air Mage had done to her. As she looked around the room she saw Damias lying in a heap next to the far wall.

She quickly got up and went over to his sprawled form, afraid of what she might find. She shook his shoulder and looked for any indication that he was breathing, and she sighed in relief when he groaned and opened his eyes.

“Careful, careful,” she said as she helped him sit up. From the dark and colorful bruises around his neck, it looked like he had borne the brunt of the attack.

“Ciardis, where are we?”

“I don’t know—some room. I just woke up.”

“This is Soundsoar’s doing.”

“But how? And why?”

“He’s an Air Mage—he holds a position at the Madrassa. I remember the Gardis questioning me about the death of the Grand Vizier. They said an Air Mage of incomparable power assassinated him.”

“Sounds like he was responsible, then.” She hesitated. “Why didn’t you bring that up in the Emperor’s chambers?”

Damias said ruefully, “I didn’t know he was in town.”

Deciding it was best to tell him, Ciardis said, “I met him once. But I didn’t know it was him!”

“I went to the Imperial Gardens and he was there. He introduced himself as Lord Aaron and we barely spent a few minutes together.”

Damias sighed. “It’s not your fault. This is on Soundsoar. Honestly, I thought he was of better character than that. Goes to show you don’t know your friends.”

“No, you don’t,” said Soundsoar from the open door.

Both Ciardis and Damias scrambled to their feet to face him.

Damias stepped forward. “What’s this about?”

“The Imperial Throne,” replied Soundsoar, “What else?”

“We have nothing to do with that,” Ciardis said from Damias’s side.

“On the contrary my dear, you have everything to do with it,” replied Soundsoar, “If you hadn’t butted your silly head in, the prince would have been disavowed today, packed off to some small town by nightfall, and Her Imperial Highness would sitting for crown measurements this evening.”

“Now we have to kill the emperor,” Soundsoar said with some regret.

“What?” said Ciardis, “Sebastian is the rightful heir—all I did was restore his power.”

“Precisely,” came the irate hiss of the woman standing behind Soundsoar. “I’ve drained Sebastian since childhood. Painstakingly renewing the necklace’s spell and even planting it on the Emperor to ensure I wasn’t linked to the crime if it was discovered. I’ve waited for the day when Sebastian would fail the final test. You have undone ten years of preparation and patience. For that, I’ll have your life.”

The princess continued as if by afterthought, “And your power.”

Soundsoar ordered the guards to come in and drag the two captives from the room. Damias and Ciardis were forced out of the palace and towards one of the prison towers of Sandrin. Built like a needle, the tower pointed straight up into the sky.

The princess ranted nonstop the whole way.

“I proved time and again to my father, Emperor Cymus – who was Sebastian’s grandfather - my worth, my strength, my skills as a leader,” she began.

Ciardis’s wrists were bound behind her back. She began struggling silently with the ties.

“I wanted him to declare me Heir Presumptive. But he did nothing but quote history to me: “The firstborn male must take the throne”.

“I am the first born, I should have taken the throne,” she said disgust in her voice.

Ciardis caught Damias’s eye as they continued walking up the winding tower steps. He shook his head—whether to tell her not to try anything or that the Princess Heir was crazy, she didn’t know.

They kept rising. Ciardis had counted over a hundred steps so far.

“I begged him. Then my father made me Princess Heir in the event of the death of my brother, the current Emperor. But he had a condition – I could only ascend the throne if my brother died with no legitimate heir who could tie to the land. I had what I needed. I killed my father with a slow poison. I was supposed to take the throne after that insipid brother of mine died off, but no—suddenly that brat, my nephew, was born, and all my waiting was for naught,” said the princess, anger rising in her tone.

They finally reached the eye of the needle. The room was empty except shackles on the wall.

The Princess Heir smiled a ghastly grin with her teeth bared against her walnut skin. “You know what these are for, right?” as she grasped an open manacle dangling from the wall.

“Some of my ancestors were inventive,” she said. “A couple of them liked to tie prisoners to the walls with metal shackles and watch them burn with the power.”

Ciardis began struggling against her captors. Dammit, she didn’t want to fry!

“Alas,” sighed the Princess Heir, “that fate is not for you—not today. I don’t have time to get a weather mage here. Besides, I need you alive.”

“Your friend, on the other hand, is of no use to me,” she said while speaking to Ciardis. Seating herself in a chair, she called out, “Soundsoar! Get to it.”

Ciardis turned in horror to watch Damias being chained to the wall. Though he struggled, he couldn’t overpower his captors.

Then Lord SoundSoar stepped forward with death in his eyes.

Marissa said, “He does so enjoy this part.”

Soundsoar raised his hand and clutched at the air just a few inches away from Damias throat. As he squeezed the empty air in front of Damias’s face, Damias began to gasp for air, his face turning blue from lack of oxygen, and he kicked and twisted his body in desperation.

Just like the Grand Vizier.

“Stop it,” screamed Ciardis, “You’re killing him.” She struggled with the two men holding her, finally twisting around enough to grab the knife from her back. She gutted one of the men immediately, but the other guard—an assassin, she was sure—disarmed her and punched her twice in the face.

She collapsed to her knees.

The next time she looked up, Damias was still struggling, his eyes rolling back in his head. Soundsoar was enjoying it. He had a sick, almost sexual, grin on his face.

Ciardis vomited. She wasn’t quite sure if it was because she had a concussion or if she were just overwhelmed with the depravity.

Soon Damias went silent, his body slack and his head slumped.

Soundsoar sighed with contentment. Ciardis had never hated anyone so much.

The Princess Heir turned to Ciardis. “Now, my dear, it is your turn.” With a snap of her fingers, she commanded the guard, “Bring her to me.”

The guard forced Ciardis to her knees before the seated woman, and she stared up into the madwoman’s eyes.

“What do you want from me?” Ciardis asked as the guard stood behind her holding her firmly on her knees.

Marissa cooed to Ciardis, “Your power, my dear, as I said before. I want it to be mine. It’s the least you can do after ruining my plans.”

She continued with a sadistic smile, “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. It would be bad of me to damage my only chance to drain the power of an enhancer companion.”

As soon as the Princess Heir put her hands on either side of Ciardis’s head, she felt the drain of magic begin.

A patron’s pull was usually like the gentle tug of a friend’s hand on a warm spring day; this felt like her brain was being scraped out of her head inch by inch.

She couldn’t scream; she couldn’t speak. She retreated into her magical core, huddled against the pain and force of the Princess Heir’s power.

And then she heard a voice. “Ciardis?”

“Sebastian,” she called out in relief and anguish. “Your aunt is crazy! Help us!”

“Where?” There was a pause. “Never mind—just hold on.”

Ciardis pulled back further into the core, her presence dimming, and then all but disappearing.

“I said hold on!”

“I am holding on, you inconsiderate brat,” she said.

He chuckled. “That’s more like it. But no, I meant to hold on to something physical. It’s about to get windy.”

Bracing herself for the pain and whatever it was Sebastian was about to do, Ciardis opened her eyes and lunged for the princess’s chair in a moment of desperation. She clutched the Princess Heir’s legs as if her life depended on it.

And then the storm came. The top of the needle broke off and suddenly the entire room was open to the elements. An Ansari man with the wingspan of a god and the attire of the Gardis dropped into the room from the sky. In his arms he carried a young prince. The Ansari set Sebastian down behind a second guard, and he took in the situation.

“Aunt Marissa,” Sebastian said coldly, “You missed my coronation festivities.”

The woman stood up from her chair and kicked Ciardis’s pale form back. “Well you know how my schedule is, dear nephew.”

There were now two assassin guards—plus two evil Mages, versus her, Sebastian, and two Ansari Gardis.

Deciding this was a fair time to comment, Ciardis said, “I told you to bring help, Sebastian, not barge in here prepared to die.”

Then the battle began. Lord Soundsoar called in high winds from the sky. The winds were strong enough to smash the Ansari Gardis against the far wall, if they hadn’t been ready for his attack. They shielded against Soundsoar’s gale winds and one of the Ansari Gardis pulled out of his pocket a glass ball with clear crystals inside.  The clear crystals looked like shards—shards of crushed glass. It took a moment for her to realize the implications, but when she did, Ciardis dropped her body fully to the floor.

The Ansari Gardis tossed the ball to the floor, causing it to break and glass to fly into the air. As the glass fell back to the ground, a fierce wind came in through the roof. The wind formed a terrifying funnel, scooping up the glass and turning the deadly winds to the side of the room which held the Princess Heir, the assassin guards, Soundsoar and unfortunately – Ciardis.

“Hey, man—I’m over here, too!” she shouted at the Ansari Gardis from the ground, her head buried in her arms. He didn’t acknowledge her. The glass gale went straight down the throats of Soundsoar and the first assassin. They collapsed, coughing bright globs of blood onto their vestments. Their lungs had ruptured from the internal assault. It looked like both were dead.

Deciding she didn’t want to die on the floor, Ciardis crawled across the bodies and grabbed the dagger from Soundsoar’s sheath. She was tempted to spit on him, but decided she’d do it later.

Looking up, it was clear to Ciardis that even with the deaths of Soundsoar and the assassin, her rescuers were losing the battle. The other assassin had decapitated Sebastian’s second guard, and the Princess Heir was draining the mage powers of everyone in the room.

It was up to her to change the tide of battle. She knew she had only seconds while the Princess Heir’s concentration was occupied. She grabbed her knife and prepared to rush her.

And then the Princess Heir stopped. Without warning, the knife was snatched away from Ciardis, leaving a deep gash on her wrist.

Soundsoar had grabbed it. He couldn’t use it because he couldn’t get up off the floor from where he lay in a dark pool of blood. In a fit of anger, Ciardis kicked his chest with enough force that his lungs continued their downward spiral; he died instantaneously.

The distraction gave the Ansari guard enough time to hit the Princess Heir with a wave of air that forced her into the wall, snapping her neck in the process. Her limp body dropped to the floor with a thud, as did her last remaining guard.

He was dead when Ciardis approached him.

Silently, the Ansari Gardis who introduced himself as Michael checked the bodies in the room. He summoned the Gardis next to Ciardis.  Sebastian was huddled against a wall, shivering. Soon other guards flowed into the room. They prepared to remove Damias’s body and Ciardis moved forward with them to silently walk beside her tutorials instructor as they carried his body from the room.