“Thanks for looking after it for me.” Alexander said, taking it with a smile.
“Truth be told, it probably took better care of me than I did of it.”
“I know what you mean,” Alexander said, taking off his tunic and donning his armor. He started to strap his throwing knife to his belt when Jataan deliberately cleared his throat.
“Mage Gamaliel sends gifts,” he said, presenting a staff in one hand and a dagger in the other.
“Luminessence,” Jataan said, holding up the staff, “was fashioned from the vitalwood and is imbued with powerful light-focused magic.
“Demonrend,” he said, holding up the dagger, “was fashioned from the steel of a fallen star and enchanted to banish any demon with a single hit. The Guild Mage bids you use them well.”
Alexander took Demonrend, feeling its weight and admiring its perfect balance. It was an ideal blade for a close knife fight, but it was also balanced to be thrown. He strapped it to his belt along the small of his back.
Luminessence felt warm to the touch, seeming to come to life in his hands, beginning to glow a few moments after he grasped it. The more he poured his will into it, the brighter it got, filling the Wizard’s Den with brilliance, then more, yet without ever blinding any of them. Alexander felt a connection to the staff begin to form. He willed the light brighter still, staring straight at it without harm or even discomfort, drinking in the light as if it were nourishment, then willing the light to subside.
“That was impressive,” Jack said.
Jataan nodded, frowning slightly. “I should have been blinded by such light, and yet I could see more clearly than ever.”
Anja and Lita nodded silently.
The staff was stout, just over an inch in diameter, six feet long, shod in four inches of silver on each end. The entire surface was carved with elaborately combined magical symbols. Its colors screamed of power and light. When Alexander willed it to produce dim light, the top shod began to glow softly, then winked out with a thought. It was as if the staff had become an extension of his body, sensing his will and obeying his thoughts as quickly as one’s hand moves by command of one’s mind.
“For the moment, I think I’ll leave Luminessence right here,” Alexander said, leaning it against the doorframe and stepping out into the night.
“Be ready,” he said, facing his friends in the Wizard’s Den. “There’s no telling what will be waiting for you when I open this door.”
“We’ll be ready,” Jataan said.
Alexander nodded. “Is everything else in place?”
“Yes, by morning the forward operating base will be burned to the ground and what remains of the Lancer contingent will take heavy casualties from our militia ambushes.”
“Excellent,” he said, closing the door and mounting up behind Kiera. After she helped him lace in, she prodded her wyvern into a roar, signaling the launch command. Eight Sky Knights took to wing, gaining altitude slowly as they floated east toward Mithel Dour.
Chapter 28
Isabel drifted into awareness shrouded in a cocoon of distant pain, recoiling into the sanctuary of oblivion again and again before gaining enough sense of herself to hang on to consciousness. She was in a bed. Other people were in the room, but she couldn’t see them. A moment of panic seized her, flooding into every part of her body.
Was she blind?
Her hands came up involuntarily, sending a wave of pain through her body, but revealing that her eyes were bandaged.
“Ah, she lives,” Phane said.
It all came back to her at once. She was free of the constant nightmare induced by Azugorath while she’d been unconscious, but she was still Phane’s prisoner … and … she had managed to resist the Wraith Queen-no small thing. Phane had beaten her for breaking his mirror. She tried to smile but could only manage a wince.
“Take off her bandage,” Phane said.
Gentle hands began unwrapping the bandage around her head. She let them work. The light was painful, but she could see, at least as much as the swelling around her eyes would permit. Her face felt bruised and battered.
Dierdra looked at Isabel’s face and eyes, examining her injuries before nodding to herself with a sigh of relief.
“She’ll mend, Prince Phane,” she said, bowing out of the way.
Phane sat down on the edge of the bed, smiling at Isabel as if he were genuinely relieved that she was recovering from the beating he’d given her.
“I knew you’d pull through,” he said. “Never doubted it.”
“Glad to hear it,” Isabel said, thickly.
“You just rest now. Your friends will be along in a few days; we’ll talk again then,” Phane said, patting her on the leg with a cold smile before strolling out of the room, leaving her in Dierdra’s care.
Isabel mostly slept for the next two days, waking only long enough to eat or drink before going back to bed, and then never fully waking. She tried to focus her mind on the light within, working to penetrate the veil of darkness cast across it by Azugorath, but she failed with every attempt. The harder she pushed, the more the Wraith Queen resisted her efforts.
She woke groggy, but with renewed strength, carefully easing out of bed and gently stretching her stiff muscles.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed, My Lady,” Dierdra said, hurrying through the service entrance.
“I’m hungry … something with substance,” Isabel said, easing back onto the bed.
“Yes, My Lady.”
Dierdra returned a few minutes later with a tray of food: stew, bread, cheese, and vegetables.
Isabel started easy with a few spoonfuls of the stew’s gravy to wake her belly, but before long, she’d nearly cleaned the platter and felt much better for it. After eating, she went to the balcony, sitting heavily on one of the lounge chairs and closing her eyes for a nap.
By the following morning, she felt almost whole again, except for a halo of pain that seemed to float around her head at all times. It wasn’t intense but it was constant, a reminder of just how far she could push Phane. Still, breaking that mirror, taking that capability out of his arsenal, that was worth a beating.
Dierdra returned an hour after clearing lunch, white as a sheet. “Prince Phane will be dining with us tonight. He said to expect guests.”
“Thank you, Dierdra.”
Since she’d awakened, Isabel had been worrying about Wren and Lacy, reasoning that Phane had recaptured them, but hoping otherwise. That hope was dwindling quickly. Given her condition, it wasn’t time to act; all she could do was wait.
Phane arrived well before dinner with flowers and a bright, joyous smile.
“You’ve come so far so fast,” he said, carefully placing the vase of flowers in the exact center of the table. “I didn’t even expect you to be on your feet by now, let alone up to entertaining guests.”
“Your concern is touching,” Isabel said.
“Isn’t it though? Let’s not forget, you brought all this unpleasantness on yourself.” He shook his finger at her. “You had no right. That mirror was irreplaceable.”
She didn’t respond.
“I thought as much. Come with me.” He led her down to a large supply room; a few guards were stationed inside. Phane gestured to the only chair in the room. If she’d had more strength, she would have stayed on her feet.
“Bring them in,” Phane said.
A guard opened the door. Five people, all strangers to Isabel, filed in and stood a few feet in front of the wall. The door closed, all five of them jumping at the sound.
“Pick one,” Phane said.
“What? What for?”
“Not important, just pick one.”
“Tell me why or I’m not playing your game.”
“I see,” Phane said, turning casually to the five frightened people. With a gesture, he smashed all five of them into the wall so hard that their heads and torsos were crushed-literally popped-leaving crimson splatter marks on the walls where they hit.