“The gentry of Airen did not even know of the changes that would be made once Cassius was proclaimed regent,” Nandra said. “The moment he heard his son was to marry a Nadirii, Gallienus starting plotting. While they’ve been traveling, with great secrecy, the gentry allied their militias and created their strategy. When their spies noted the Firenz regiments camped close to Airen’s southern border, they knew all did not bode well for the continuation of their regime with the heir to their throne soon to be wed do a Nadirii. Thus, they forged ahead with the first moves of their attack.”
“And it was Fern?” Rebecca whispered.
Both fellow witches nodded, but only Lena spoke.
“Cassius had her guarded, but he could not understand the fullness of their desire to capture and imprison her. They sent great numbers to be certain this was so. His man, Otho, perished during the effort to try to spirit her away.”
“Oh goddess, no,” Rebecca breathed.
“This as well as more than thirty other Airenzian soldiers loyal to their crown prince,” Nandra bit out.
“I did not feel the veil shift due to Fern—” Rebecca began.
“She is not dead,” Lena told her. “She is only taken.” She tipped her head to Nandra. “We believe they intend to try to use her powers. We also believe, as naught yet has moved forward with it, they do not know that she’s raised an army of her own. Fern’s army has just lost their commander…for the time being.”
“They further do not know that all nations have allied with Airen to quell such a revolt,” Nandra put in.
“I fear Wodell may not be able to join in that effort,” Rebecca said sadly.
Her fellow witches both nodded, their expressions just as melancholy.
“There were two prongs to their attack,” Lena went on, moving them from that subject. “Taking Fern and besetting Sky Bay. Cassius’s men are holding the Bay, but they’re under siege. They need reinforcements.”
“I am sure this will be forthcoming,” Rebecca murmured.
And it likely would.
“The Enchantments were attacked,” Nandra announced.
Rebecca blinked.
“The Go’Doan fools,” Lena mumbled.
“They didn’t—” Rebecca started.
Lena shook her head. “They were trounced by the Nadirii. But they used a unicorn horn and Melisse to bring down the shield.”
Rebecca’s back shot straight and her eyes shot daggers. “A unicorn horn?”
“The creature will be avenged,” Lena stated flatly, staring her sister right in the eyes.
This meant whatever glorious creature had been maimed for this vile effort would be avenged.
“And Melisse?” Rebecca asked.
“She holds to life, but barely. I have not seen good things,” Nandra answered.
“I told her,” Rebecca hissed, deciding to feel angry, rather than full of despair, for she’d had enough despair for one day.
“Melisse, like none of us, is perfect,” Nandra replied.
“And this is why Ophelia isn’t with us right now,” Rebecca remarked.
“This is why, amongst other things,” Lena responded.
Rebecca was confused. “But I have felt her strengthening.”
“I as well, but I urge you, do not put too much hope in that,” Lena advised.
They all knew.
What would be with Ophelia was not a possibility.
It was an eventuality.
“You have had much on your mind,” Nandra said, unusually gentle. “And much occurring in your realm. But,” she looked to Lena, bringing together their abbreviated circle, “there is hope. The veil strengthens. The lovers grow ever tied to one another. It is the first time I have felt real hope since the quakes began.”
“This is true,” Lena returned. “But something has occurred.” She looked amongst her two fellow witches as well, saying, “You both must have felt it.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I felt something,” Nandra told her. “Though I did not know what it was. Do you?”
“The sorcerer who rouses the Beast, his energy is gone,” Lena said.
Rebecca, for one, had not felt that.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Can we be sure about anything we sense, see or feel through our craft?” Lena asked as answer. “But there is a great change, and it has naught to do with the fact that there have been less orderly quakes. The Beast is not gone, he is not asleep, he is…pacified. But he is the Beast. He has awakened. So he will not be pacified for long.”
“I do not like the sound of that,” Nandra muttered.
“I urge you, my sisters, in this time of despair, to hold on to hope,” Lena said. “Much swifter than I ever would imagined with these four, I feel their power building. This means we must protect them at all costs.”
“At all costs,” Nandra agreed.
Rebecca thought of what was happening in her home.
So when she repeated, “At all costs,” her words were full of sorrow.
As were the expressions of her sisters.
83
The Down
Prince True
Crittich Keep, Notting Thicket
WODELL
The roads to Crittich Keep were lined with deathly silent Dellish citizens.
And not a one of them appeared surprised that Prince True rode his steed Majesty at a breakneck pace along the cobbles, his mantle flying out behind him, his face set in stone.
Though there were a goodly number of them who were astonished at just how brightly his eyes were glowing green.
But True was of no mind to the silent masses that lined the streets.
Only one thing was on his mind.
And this was why he’d thrown his leg over Majesty’s rump to dismount before his horse even came to a full halt.
The instant he was on his feet outside the prison, he tossed his reins to a waiting guard who had to catch a still-moving Majesty and pull him back before he was yanked off his own feet.
True did not watch this.
His lieutenants Luther and Wallace—who had also dismounted on the fly—shadowing him, True stalked under the raised portcullis and through the high, double-wide, stone-arched door. A door that sat dead center in the long one-story section that separated the two tall, stark towers constructed of three-feet wide blocks of black Airenzian stone.
He was unsurprised that Aramus, Cassius and Mars awaited him just inside.
He was surprised that Frey Drakkar and Apollo Ulfr of Lunwyn were with them.
It was Aramus who approached first, his eyes moving over True’s face, and thus his lips knew only to ask, “Which one do you want first?”
“Carrington,” True gritted, prowling toward the inner hall without breaking stride, his mantle flashing behind him.
The men all formed a phalanx after him as True took a right turn in the hall.
He headed to where the prisoners of means were kept in spacious cells with cots with down mattresses, small tables with chairs, smaller irons for heating, with three square meals a day and views of the city from its thin windows.
The administration offices for the constabularies of all Wodell and their penal systems were also on the lower floors of that tower in the six-story keep.