“Take me to my estate!” Tyr finally snapped, slamming the shutter closed.
“Is that wise?” Edric asked, diplomatically. “If the Babachenko is aware of your involvement, your estate is the first place he’ll look.”
“Where then?”
“Perhaps the Grant estate would be vacant.”
Tyr slammed the shutter open again. “Take us to Grant’s estate instead.”
As the carriage started moving again, Tyr sat glowering at Alexander, only growing more agitated when Alexander closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of his seat.
“Where’s the Stone?” Tyr demanded.
Alexander ignored him.
Tyr slapped him across the face. “Where’s the Stone?”
“Safe,” Alexander said, fixing Tyr with his golden eyes and holding his stare until Tyr looked away, again trying to master his anger.
“I’m going to enjoy this, Pretender. I hope you hold out for as long as possible … give me a reason to cut on you, take your life away from you a piece at a time.”
“You need a reason to do that?” Alexander asked, closing his eyes again and leaning his head back.
“You think I’m bluffing?” Tyr snapped, barely controlled rage with a tinge of fear in his voice and colors.
“No, not at all,” Alexander said without opening his eyes. “But no suffering within your power to inflict will ever cause me to give you the Sovereign Stone, and without me, it will be forever beyond your reach.”
“I’ve heard bluster like that before, but they all break. Sooner or later, they all beg for mercy. You’re no different.”
Alexander sat forward quickly, boring into Tyr with his blind eyes. “I have endured such fear, pain, and despair … the likes of which would crush your petty little soul into nothingness. Your limited mind can’t even conceive of the trials that I’ve already survived, so save your threats, Tyr … they’re as impotent as you are.”
Veins started to bulge from Tyr’s temples, ripples of rage and fury coursed through his colors, but Alexander didn’t back away. He held himself within reach, daring Tyr to lash out again … and he wasn’t disappointed. Tyr surged forward, grabbing Alexander by the throat and slamming him back into his seat, landing astraddle him and roaring into his face from only inches away with such force that his voice broke.
The edge of Alexander’s mouth turned up just enough to mock the pirate king. Tyr flopped back into his seat, glaring at Alexander, once again struggling to master his temper.
While everything Alexander had said was true, he didn’t relish the idea of being tortured, especially if that torment left him maimed as Tyr had promised. Fortunately, Tyr was keenly aware that he was little more than an errand boy charged with delivering Phane’s prize, so Alexander had little fear that he would do anything too damaging to him. Phane would likely be quite unforgiving if Tyr delivered Alexander broken and without the Stone.
After a series of turns, the carriage stopped, wobbling when the drivers dismounted. Tyr opened the door and peered out.
“It looks abandoned,” the lead driver said.
“Good, we’ll do this in the stables,” Tyr said, stepping out into the cool night air. “Stand guard.”
Alexander obeyed Tyr’s imperious gesture to exit the carriage and followed him into the stables without a word. Wizard Edric trailed them, but not too close. Alexander decided it would be best to kill the wizard first when he chose to make his move. Unfortunately, the wizard seemed to have enough sense to understand this and so kept his distance.
Tyr grabbed a chair from a small table beside the door and set it in the middle of the hay-strewn floor. Edric remained by the door. Alexander surveyed his surroundings, taking note of everything within reach that he might use as a weapon.
“Sit.”
He nodded, approaching the chair, putting his hand on the back as if preparing to sit, then whipped the chair up and around in an arc, throwing it at the wizard. It caught him by surprise, slamming him into the wall and momentarily stunning him. The moment he released the chair, Alexander raced three steps to the nearest stall and snatched up the pitchfork leaning against it.
Tyr roared behind him. Alexander ignored him, taking a moment to set himself before throwing the pitchfork like a spear. It flew true and would have buried itself into Edric’s chest had the wizard not flung his hands up and unleashed a force-push that sent the pitchfork flipping into the rafters and knocked Alexander to the ground at the same time.
Tyr kicked him savagely in the side, rolling him into the hay and knocking his wind out, leaving him curled in a ball on the floor, struggling to draw breath.
Tyr’s pirates flung the door open a moment later. One said urgently, “The Lord Protector comes with a hundred men.”
Shouts filtered through the night air into the stables. Sounds of hard boots on stone followed.
“We have to flee,” Edric said. “The Babachenko will kill you for this.”
Tyr bellowed in fury as if the sheer volume of his cracking voice could undo his precarious circumstances.
The door on the far end of the stables blew open, shattering into splinters. The Lord Protector stepped through a moment later, mace in hand, nearly insubstantial black plate armor covering him from head to toe.
Tyr seemed torn, looking at the Lord Protector for a moment as if sizing up his chances. In answer to his unasked question, the Lord Protector unleashed a blast of force that blew Tyr across the floor, leaving him dazed and sprawling near the door next to Edric.
“Now, Little One,” Alexander thought.
Edric picked Tyr up, put one arm around his neck and nearly carried him out of the stables toward the cliff. Alexander smiled when he saw the Thinblade vanish, scabbard and all. Soldiers poured in past the Lord Protector, but they were too late to catch Tyr and Edric. They could only watch as the wizard hurled both of their bodies off the cliff. Alexander chuckled to himself as he was hauled to his feet and roughly turned to face the Lord Protector.
“There is no escape from Mithel Dour,” the Lord Protector said, matter-of-factly.
“Looks like Tyr managed to escape,” Alexander said.
“He was not our prisoner, though he may soon be.”
“Just don’t put him in the cell next to me … he’s terrible company.”
“Oh, you won’t have to worry about that,” the Lord Protector said, snapping a collar around Alexander’s neck while two men held him from behind. “The Babachenko has decided to see to your interrogation personally.”
Chapter 24
Alexander rode back to the Andalian palace escorted by a hundred royal guard and the Lord Protector. Given his circumstances, he found himself in surprisingly good spirits. While Tyr had failed to free him from the Andalians, Alexander had managed to take the Thinblade from him, a turn of events that Tyr was no doubt furious about. Even better, it was highly unlikely that Tyr would show his face in Mithel Dour anytime soon, especially without the power that the Thinblade gave him.
Alexander expected to be returned to the dungeon, but found the Lord Protector leading him into the warded part of the palace instead, while all but two of his guards returned to other duties.
“Stay close and stay hidden, Little One.”
“I’m right here.”
At the entrance to the central chambers of the palace, the Lord Protector touched a stone set into a panel in the wall, and the magical barrier warding the hallway before them vanished, reappearing once they were through and the Lord Protector touched a similar stone set into the wall a few feet past the ward.
The uniform of the guards changed within the inner sanctum of the Andalian ruling elite, becoming both more austere and more functional. Alexander could see in a glance that the guards’ smocks were enchanted, though he couldn’t determine the nature of the enchantment. He idly wondered if the smocks were produced by some form of magical device similar to the forges that was designed to churn out identically enchanted items in quantity.