Demonkin (51 page)

“Mysteriously?” questioned Garth.

“Yes.” Max nodded. “He was not really gone, but we could not see him.”

“How do you know that he was still there?”

“He spoke to me in my mind,” answered Max. “It was weird. It was very much like the way the unicorns speak to us.”

“Then he had a chance to convey his thoughts,” mused Garth. “What did he say? Can you remember?”

“I remember the words all right,” declared the Ranger. “It was an eerie feeling to hear them, but he was speaking about the Rhodans.”

“What were the words?”

“You must make your people alike before they can accept their differences. Question all, but remember, there are two sides to everything.”

Garth raised an eyebrow as he stepped forward and fingered the cloak. He pushed the hood off of Max’s head and examined it closely. It was as finely finished on the inside as it was on the outside. “Take off the cloak.”

Max dutifully complied and held the cloak out for Garth to take it, but Garth shook his head and refused to accept it.

“Put it on inside out,” instructed the Knight of Alcea.

Max felt silly turning the cloak inside out, but he was curious where Garth was going with his thoughts. He pulled the cloak on and pulled the hood forward again. He was watching Garth’s face when the Knight of Alcea raised an eyebrow and moved his hand forward to touch the Ranger’s chest.

“What?” questioned the Ranger.

“I can’t see you,” Garth replied with awe. “It is as if you do not exist, but I can touch you. Push the hood back.”

Max pushed the hood back, and Garth stared at the Ranger’s head as it seemingly floated in the air.

“It is a cloak of invisibility,” Garth said reverently.

Max glanced down, but he could not see himself. He held one of his arms in front of him and then slid his hand out of the fabric. Only his hand was visible.

“Merciful magic! How is this possible?”

“That is a question that I cannot answer,” replied Garth, “but I would not alter the cloak in any way. It is a precious gift from the Mage, and I suspect that you will need it before you are done in Calusa.”

* * * *

The old man walked to the main gates of the Royal Palace in Tagaret, his dull green eyes darting from side to side as he took in his surroundings. The sun glinted off his bald dome as the wind rippled the short white hair that fringed his head. A Red Sword saw the short, fat man approaching, and he stepped forward to meet him.

“Have I been approved yet?” asked the old man.

“I haven’t received word today,” replied the Red Sword. “Do you wish me to send a runner inside?”

“I never expected to be treated so shabbily,” scowled the old man. “Is the city so flush with healers that I can be cast aside so easily?”

“I do not make the decisions in the palace,” the Red Sword replied sympathetically. “All I can do is send a runner to Prince Oscar. Do you wish me to do so?”

“Yes,” snapped the old man.

The Red Sword raised an eyebrow, but he did not reply to the old man. He returned to his post at the gate and whispered to a runner. The runner ran towards the palace and disappeared inside.

Upstairs in the Royal Palace, King Arik was meeting with his advisors in the library. The meetings had become a daily affair as the Alceans scrambled to prepare for the coming invasion.

“Are we still in the dark as to when the invasion will occur?” asked General Gregor.

“We have no date yet,” answered King Arik. “In fact, we still have no idea whether the Zarans will attack all at once or in a sequential fashion.”

“That is information that we must have,” declared Zack Nolan. “Is Clint not in a position to get it for us?”

“Clint is working on it,” sighed the king, “but you have to appreciate the task we have set before him. He has penetrated the upper echelons of the Federation, but the emperor is refusing to share information even with the kings and queens of the countries that make up the Federation. He certainly isn’t going to share it freely with a minor general.”

“Then we need a new approach,” stated the spymaster. “We now have a Door to Tarashin. Do I have your permission to move people into Zara to work on this problem?”

“Your people have no knowledge of Zara,” frowned the king. “How would they survive even the smallest bit of scrutiny?”

“That is something for me to worry about,” the spymaster smiled thinly. “You already have enough on your plate.”

A knock on the door momentarily distracted the group. Lord Clava cracked the door to see who was needed. He spoke softly to the soldier in the corridor outside the library and then signaled for Prince Oscar to step out of the room. The king’s biological father stepped out of the library and conversed quietly with the soldier. A deep frown fell across his face, and he ordered the soldier to wait. When the prince stepped back into the library, King Arik looked questioningly at him.

“What is the matter?” the king asked as the conversation in the room died.

“I am not sure,” Prince Oscar replied. “Do you remember the knifing down by the docks last week?”

“I do.” The king nodded. “There were reports that the victim was brought back to life by a healer.”

“That healer’s name is Wycaramor,” stated Prince Oscar. “While I never believed that the victim was brought back to life, I do think the skill of the healer saved the young man.”

“That is more believable,” interjected Queen Tanya. “The victim was stabbed in the heart. Just saving the man shows incredible healing skills. There is no need to embellish upon such a feat.”

“I agree,” the prince continued. “Someone suggested that the Royal Palace could use such a healer, and Wycaramor was encouraged to apply for a position here.”

“I think that is a wise idea,” offered King Arik. “What is the problem?”

“As a precaution,” frowned the prince, “I asked Wycaramor for information on his past. I thought it would be prudent given our current circumstances, so I arranged for a Red Sword to sit down with him and take down all the pertinent information.”

“Did he turn out to be a criminal?” asked Zack Nolan.

“No,” replied the prince. “I have been unable to find any information on him at all. He claims to have grown up in Targa and spent his whole life in the city of his birth until just recently. He just journeyed here to Tagaret to seek opportunity.”

“Yet you think the man is lying?” asked the queen. “Why?”

“Wycaramor is an old man,” answered Prince Oscar, “yet he claims to have been born in Dalek.”

“But Reese has never heard of him?” asked the king.

“I founded Dalek,” declared the prince. “Wycaramor is far older than the city I built, and no one was living there when I built it. Wycaramor claims to be from an unborn city. He is lying.”

“Perhaps he is trying to hide his past,” offered Niki. “We all have something to hide from our early years.”

“You are all missing the point,” interjected the spymaster. “It is not so much that he is older than Dalek, it is that he doesn’t know how old Dalek is. I cannot imagine any learned person in all of Alcea not having heard of the new city on the Targa Sea. Word of its creation spread throughout the land.”

“Exactly.” Prince Oscar nodded. “I knew something was bothering me about him, but you are right, Zack. Even if he grew up in the farthest reaches of Lanoir, he would have heard of the building of Dalek. The man cannot be an Alcean.”

“Where is this healer?” asked the queen.

“He is at the main gates right now,” answered Prince Oscar. “Should I have him arrested?”

“The main gates?” the king echoed distractedly as he moved towards the balcony doors. “I would like a peek at him.”

Queen Tanya was caught off guard by the king’s sudden movement. She hurried after him and caught up to him as he opened the balcony doors. Together they stepped onto the balcony.

“What are you doing?” the queen whispered with annoyance.

“I am thinking about having Prince Midge spy on him,” the king whispered in return as he roused the fairy in his pocket. “Get Bantam up. They can work on it together.”

The queen obeyed as the king stared at the old man standing beyond the main gates. The old man lifted his dull green eyes and stared back at the royal couple as if something mystical had told him that he was being spied upon.

The king’s advisors gathered behind the royal couple, but none of them intruded onto the balcony. Prince Oscar moved forward in the group and was about to step out onto the balcony when a brilliant light flared outside. Screams and shouts reverberated through the courtyard below as Red Swords raced to defend the gates, and citizens ran for cover. Prince Oscar stared through barely open slits as the brilliant light outlined the magical shields surrounding the king and queen.

“The queen has her shields up,” shouted Zack Nolan. “Bin-lu, Rut-ki, get down there and subdue the assassin before he weakens the shield.”

The Lanoirian couple turned and raced out of the library as another brilliant projectile struck the queen’s shields.

“Move away from the door,” shouted Prince Oscar. “I am bringing them back in here.”

Everyone hurriedly peeled away from the balcony doors, and Prince Oscar reached out to grab his son’s arm. Before he could reach King Arik’s arm, a loud explosion rocked the room. As Prince Oscar watched in horror, the whole balcony ripped away from the palace and tumbled out of view.

* * * *

Bin-lu and Rut-ki threw open the door and raced out of the Royal Palace. Almost immediately, they halted in their tracks. Gazing across the courtyard, they saw the mangled main gates of the palace. The metal bars were twisted and broken, and bodies littered the ground. Standing defiantly where the gates used to exist was a short fat man with a balding head. Both of his hands were stretched out before him, and streams of fire streaked from his fingertips. The Red Swords were mostly hiding behind barracks or walls and shooting arrows at the demonkin, but the arrows had no effect at all. The arrows bounced off the old man’s body as if the arrowheads were made of soft rubber.

Rut-ki gazed at the trail of Red Sword bodies between her and the demonkin. “We cannot just rush him. That has obviously already failed for others. How do you want to approach this?”

“There is no time to get around behind him,” frowned Bin-lu. “He is destroying the palace guard. We must both go forward.”

Rut-ki frowned deeply as she glanced at her partner. Slowly, she nodded in agreement. “Dance of the grasshopper?”

Bin-lu nodded. “I will go first.”

“We will go together,” Rut-ki replied adamantly.

Without further discussion, the Lanoirian couple raced towards the gates. At first they angled away from one another, but when the demonkin noticed them approaching, they altered course to parallel one another. The demonkin turned away from the Red Swords as he aimed the streams of fire towards his new targets. Bin-lu dove for the ground and rolled into a ball as Rut-ki leaped high in the air. When Bin-lu felt his feet under him, he pushed off hard to his left, the streams of fire scorching the courtyard where his body had just been.

Rut-ki bent her knees as she landed and pushed off to the right. She felt the searing of fire as her feet left the ground, but it was a momentary feeling. She landed again and dove forward in a roll, striving to put more distance between her and Bin-lu so that the demonkin finally had to choose between one or the other. Bin-lu also spread the distance between him and Rut-ki while still making steady progress towards the gates.

Wycaramor grew increasingly frustrated as the two Lanoirians moved constantly closer. The humans moved with an uncanny sense of where the demonkin would strike next, and Wycaramor thought about fleeing, his primary task complete. Unexpectedly, a magical force streaked across the courtyard and slammed into his chest. The demonkin staggered backwards. Wycaramor glanced upwards at the destroyed balcony. Standing in the opening in the side of the building was a tall, white-haired man and a short red-headed woman. The white-haired man raised his arm and sent a fireball streaming towards the demonkin.

Wycaramor abandoned his attack on the charging humans and swiftly erected a magical shield. He barely had it erected when the fireball smashed into it. The demonkin frowned deeply, not because the fireball was thrown at him, but because he knew that the white-haired mage could not have gotten off two spells so close together. He glanced up again at the red-headed woman, but she gave no indication of casting spells at him. The magical distraction almost made the demonkin forget about the charging humans. He snapped his head downward to search for the Lanoirians, but he was too late.

Bin-lu leaped into the air, his right leg extended towards Wycaramor’s head. The demonkin reflexively raised an arm to swat away the leg, but it didn’t help. Bin-lu’s left leg powered forward, his foot slamming into Wycaramor’s face. The demonkin staggered backwards a step, although the blow caused no damage to the demonkin’s skin. Too late, Wycaramor noticed the female attacking from the other side. Her feet slammed into the side of his head, one right after the other. Wycaramor whirled to flee, but his feet were hard to move. Glancing downward, the demonkin saw dozens of dogs, and their teeth were pulling on his robe.

Wycaramor pointed downward with both hands and fire streamed into the pack of dogs. Some of the dogs yelped and recoiled; others burned to death with their teeth still imbedded in the cloth of his robe. He kicked out at the beasts, but he felt another powerful blast upon his shield. As he tried to turn around to find the mage attacking him, Wycaramor saw Bin-lu jumping to his feet. He reached out and backhanded the Lanoirian. Bin-lu flew through the air, slamming hard to the ground. On the other side of the demonkin, Rut-ki screamed in anguish. She leaped on the back of the demonkin, and her hands stretched around his head. As her fingers dug deep into the demonkin’s eyes, Wycaramor screamed as his world turned black. He reached over his shoulder and grabbed the Lanoirian woman. With all his might, he ripped her from her perch and tossed her through the air.

Almost immediately, a powerful magical blast slammed into the demonkin. It shook his shield and threatened to burst it. Without the ability to see, Wycaramor turned in what he thought was the direction of the street. He moved hesitantly forward, but before he had gone more than a few steps, a splitting pain streaked through his head. His head felt instantly light and warm blood gushed down his neck. As he felt the life forces abandoning his body, the demonkin sank to his knees with one word on his lips.