Maiden of Pain

CHAPTER SIX

Ythnel floated in a sea of endless black. There was no horizon, no edge to the blackness. It was all around her, enveloping her, insulating her. Beyond the blackness was pain. It pushed against the buffer, sought to puncture the blackness, to drain the sea away until she was left standing there naked and helpless. Ythnel wished it would go away. She was tired of pain. She was afraid of it.

Fear intensifies pain, Headmistress Yenael's voice echoed through the blackness. It creates anticipation, an expectation in the mind. Fear is a tool. Use it.

Ythnel ignored the words. Pain was beating harder against the barrier. She tried to bury herself deeper in the blackness. Her heart raced with fear.

Fear.

A handmaiden was not supposed to fear pain. Pain was the air she breathed, the lover she embraced. Pain was a thing to control, not fear. Fearing pain gave it control.

Slowly, Ythnel let the black fade away. Light appeared, grew, and brought with it pain. Ythnel opened her arms and welcomed it.

Calloused hands supported Ythnel and lifted her while other hands removed the manacles from around her wrists and ankles. Her right shoulder stung, and her face throbbed. Her left eye was swollen shut. Two lines of fire ran down her right cheek. Her feet touched the stone floor, but there was no strength in her legs. She sagged against the hands that held her and tried to focus on her surroundings. Her right eye fluttered open, and she saw two people standing before her.

"You walk a thin line, Naeros. You know Father wants to be notified immediately when one of them is captured." The woman speaking looked familiar to Ythnel. She wore a sleeveless white tunic over leather breeches. Dark, straight hair, streaked sparingly with white, hung past her shoulders and framed a lean, angular face. The front of the tunic was decorated with a thick, black embroidered circle. Her emphatic gestures drew Ythnel's attention to the corded muscles flexed along the woman's arms. "He was very upset when he learned you had one secreted away down here. Entropy demands swift judgment against those who transgress Her will."

"Father could not care less." Naeros sneered. "If I didn't know better, Kaestra, I'd say you barged in here hoping to claim some of the credit for capturing this witch by presenting her to Father yourself. Afraid that with our sister's recent successes, she may earn enough favor to replace you as high priestess?"

Kaestra's eyes widened, and her mouth moved as though she wanted to say something. If those eyes were violet instead of brown, and her curves a bit softer, Ythnel realized, Kaestra would bear a striking resemblance to Saestra. Then the impact of Naeros's words struck her. The three were siblings!

"I'm leaving, Naeros, and I'm taking the prisoner with me. I'd suggest you don't make an issue of this." Kaestra pinned her brother with a look that dared a response. Naeros simply stepped back with a bow. A smug smile spread across Kaestra's face, and she moved up the staircase. The guards followed behind quietly, dragging Ythnel along between them.

Outside the tower, Ythnel squinted in the harsh sunlight as the guards carried her to a waiting cart. The back of the cart was enclosed to form a solid box about five feet high, four feet across, and six feet deep. One of the guards opened the door, and the other shoved Ythnel inside, swinging the door shut behind himself as he entered after her. Sunlight spilled in through bars in the door, bathing Ythnel as she lay on the floor. She pulled herself up onto one of the benches that ran the length of each side while the guard sat staring at her from the other bench, fingering the cudgel hanging from his belt.

"Thanks for the help," Ythnel said, smiling weakly at her chaperone. The cart took off with a lurch, and she was forced to brace herself with her hands to keep from slipping off the bench. The guard chuckled.

Ythnel ground her teeth and held back a groan as the pain triggered by her sudden movement finally reached the area of her brain that registered those specific nerve impulses. The particular lesson from her training at the manor where she had learned that bit of information was one she would not soon forget. The sisters had somehow removed the top half of the skull of a goblin while it was still alive in order to point out how the brain and nervous system interacted. Ythnel remembered the goblin's pain region being relatively small, which meant it could endure a lot of pain before becoming incapacitated. This was one of the few times she wished she had a goblin's brain.

A person shouldn't have to endure this much pain for this long, she thought. There's no point because there's no time to heal, to harden. That is the purpose of painto make one stronger. She sighed, a long, slow exhalation. And as she emptied herself out, doubt crept in.

Why is this happening to me? When will it be over? Surely, Loviatar has some greater plan for me. I just need to have patience. Just a little longer.

It was a reassuring thought, one that she clung to with desperation. But in the back of Ythnel's mind, a frightened voice echoed.

I don't think I can wait much longer.

Preoccupied as she was, Ythnel did not realize they had stopped until the cart door swung open and a guard reached inside to drag her out. She stumbled onto the white stones that composed most of the roads in Luthcheq, her legs weak but able to support her. They were in a small courtyard adjacent to some sort of outbuilding behind a large, sprawling palace that Ythnel guessed was the Karanoks'. The well-tended grounds, an area easily equal to four city blocks in size, were cordoned off from the general populous by the same thick, towering walls that separated the city from the unsettled wilds.

The palace itself covered half the grounds. A grand marble staircase rose up to a portico that surrounded the first level. A broad architrave decorated with relief sculpture marked the beginning of the second story, and a great dome capped the center of the structure.

Ythnel was led to a small door on the south side of the palace. Kaestra took a key from a pouch at her waist, turned it in the keyhole, pushed the door open, and walked in. The guards shoved Ythnel after her. She found herself in a dark tunnel. About thirty feet in front of her, Kaestra stood running her hand up a wall, as if searching for something. Ythnel saw the wall swing inward to reveal the orange glow of torchlight in another room.

Two men stood at stiff attention next to a rough-hewn wood table with playing cards scattered across its top. Beyond them was a row of barred cells, all empty.

"We have a new prisoner, Corporal Urler," Kaestra said. "You know what to do with her."

"Yes, High Priestess." One of the dungeon guards hurriedly saluted then fumbled with the keys at his belt. He unlocked the section of bars that led into the row of cells and waved for Ythnel's escorts to follow him. The guard paused before one of the cells, a thoughtful look on his face, then nodded to himself and moved to the next one down. He opened that one and ushered the guards and Ythnel inside. Two sets of manacles, bolted into the wall, were fastened to Ythnel's hands and feet. Their job done, the two escorts withdrew, and the guard with the keys stepped forward, a wad of cloth in his hand. He shoved the wad into Ythnel's mouth then tied a strip of leather around her head to hold it in place.

"Don't want you castin' none of yer magic while yer waitin' for Lord Karanok." He smiled, revealing a few gaps in his teeth, then turned and left, slamming the bars closed behind himself.

Ythnel watched him walk back to Kaestra, who nodded and left, the two guards who accompanied her trailing behind. The other two guards sat back down at the table as soon as she was out of sight and resumed their card game.

The manacles prevented Ythnel from doing little more than shifting from side to side, but she was still able to move her head. She could see the entire dungeon through the bars of her cell. All the cells were the same damp, gray stone. And they were all empty.

Ythnel leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. What was going to happen next? She knew wizards were executed, but she wasn't a wizard. Surely she would get a chance to prove it. But what if she didn't? She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought. She pushed everything from her mind and imagined the sea of black filling the emptiness, drowning all worry and cares until finally she drifted in its comforting embrace once again.

Prisus sipped at his morning tea while Iuna sat across from him happily eating her bowl of oats and maple syrup. Her disposition had turned quite sunny following the arrest of Ythnel. As much as Prisus enjoyed his daughter when she was in these good moods, he knew he would have to find yet another replacement. There was just no way he could run his business and raise Iuna.

There was a knock at the front door. Prisus continued to drink his tea; Leco would answer. Seconds after the first knock came an insistent pounding.

"Prisus Saelis? This is the city guard! Open up immediately!"

Leco hurried past the dining room on his way to the front door. Prisus sat up straighter and set his tea down, his brow furrowed in concern. Iuna glanced at him questioningly, but he motioned for her to stay seated. Prisus could hear heated voices coming from the living room. He dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin then stood up. Leco appeared at the entry to the dining room.

"Master Saelis, there is a Captain" A uniformed guard barged past Leco, cutting him off.

"Prisus Saelis? By order of House Karanok, you are hereby placed under arrest for the aiding and abetting of a witch."

"What?" Prisus's face paled at the charges. Several armed guards filed into the room and grabbed hold of Prisus and Iuna. Libia entered with a tray, saw the guards, and screamed. The tray slipped from her hands with a clatter as she crumpled to the floor.

"Papa, what is going on? We didn't do anything wrong," Iuna cried as the guards' hands closed around her arms and lifted her out of her seat.

"Don't worry, Iuna. This will all get sorted out," Prisus said as he was led out, trying hard to hide the strain in his own voice. As he entered the living room, he saw Leco being held by a couple of guards at the door; he had been dragged from the room while Prisus was being arrested. When Leco spotted him, he struggled violently against the men who restrained him. Somehow he slipped free and charged the guards escorting Prisus. Before he could reach them, though, one of the guards by the door recovered and knocked Leco's feet out from under him with a sweep of the shaft of his spear. Leco hit the floor with a groan but struggled to get up. The other guard stepped to Leco's side and kicked him twice in the side. Leco collapsed and lay still, though Prisus could still see him breathing.

The guards led Prisus and Iuna out into the courtyard, where an enclosed wagon waited, the door of iron bars at the rear hanging open. A guard stood at the back of the wagon like an usher. Another sat on the driver's bench, twisted around so he could watch the procession, a loaded crossbow set casually in his lap.

A bellow of rage echoed out across the courtyard. Prisus, one foot in the wagon, turned back toward the house to see Leco charging out the door after the last guard, a fireplace poker brandished above his head. He hadn't gone two steps when there was a loud twang and something flew through the air.

"No!" Prisus cried. Leco's bellow was cut off and reduced to strangled grunts. A crossbow bolt was sunk halfway up its shaft into his chest, a blotch of red slowly spreading across the front of his gray linen tunic. Leco took one more step before tumbling down the remaining stairs to lie in a motionless heap at their base.

"Get them out of here," the captain ordered, "and move that body back inside. I'll send somebody by to pick it up later." The door closed behind Iuna, and the wagon lurched into motion as Prisus watched his life disappear from view.

They were taken to the Karanoks' palace and escorted through a service entrance to a small waiting room on the first floor. A single table and some plain wooden chairs were the only furnishings. A solitary guard was left to watch over them. Iuna huddled next to Prisus while they waited. Every breath seemed like a candle, and with each one that passed, Prisus's nerves unraveled further. Finally, the door opened and a stern-looking woman with long, straight salt-and-pepper hair entered.

"My name is Kaestra Karanok," she said, wasting no time. "Do you know who I am?"

Prisus nearly cried. The fact that they were speaking directly with the high priestess of the church of Entropy did not bode well. He nodded in answer to her question.

"Good. You should know that there is a possibility you will be charged with aiding a known witch. Are you aware of the sentence for such a crime?" She continued without waiting for a response. "Burning at the stake." Prisus gulped, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"But we didn't do anything," Iuna protested.

"Shut up!" Kaestra was right in Iuna's face. His daughter whimpered and tried to hide behind him.

"You seem to be a fine, upstanding citizen, Master Saelis." She paused, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "I understand you own your own business. And you have a lovely little girl here." Kaestra reached out to stroke Iuna, but she ducked away. Kaestra's face hardened.

"You will be called to testify against the witch you brought into our city. If you cooperate, I may be able to petition my father for leniency on your behalf."

"of course, we'll cooperate," Prisus stammered, desperate to grasp at any chance of coming out of this situation intact.

"Good. You will wait here until summoned. Remember what's at stake here, Master Saelis." Kaestra smiled, but it did little to comfort Prisus. She stalked out of the room, leaving them alone with the guard.

Prisus patted Iuna, hoping to reassure her. He, on the other hand, felt only an empty pit growing in his stomach. He started to chew nervously on a fingernail. There was nothing else to do but wait.

"Hey! Wake up in there! It's time." The shouting was joined by a loud clanging. Ythnel opened her eyes to see the guard Kaestra called Corporal Urler banging on the bars of her cell with a cudgel. He grinned when he noticed her stirring. "Lord Karanok's ready ta see ya." He unlocked the cell and swung the door open for two other guards who entered and flanked her. Corporal Urler trailed them, the keys in his hand. At a nod from him, the other two grabbed Ythnel by the wrists and ankles while he unlocked her manacles. They yanked her to her feet then wrenched her arms behind her back. Corporal Urler circled round and clamped something to her wrists. The guards relaxed their hold, but her arms were still bound behind her.

"She's all yers, boys."

Ythnel was led out of the dungeon to a flight of stairs near the secret entrance they had brought her in by. It was an unpleasant climb. Her legs had not regained their full strength, and the muscles in her thighs were burning by the time she reached the top of the flight. She paused for a moment and got a shove in the back from the guard behind her.

"Keep moving," he grunted. Unable to respond because of the gag, Ythnel glared over her shoulder before continuing.

After the stairs, they followed a hallway that curved to the left. The lead guard opened a door at the end, and they all filed through into a grand hall with an arch-vaulted ceiling that ran the length of the palace. She got little more than a glance before the guards were pushing her toward a set of wood doors decorated with some sort of metal inlay. At a knock from one of the guards, they swung inward to reveal an immense audience chamber at least one hundred feet across and more than half that distance deep. A dais dominated the side of the room opposite the entrance. Five chairs sat upon the second and third tier of the raised platform, one slightly higher than the other four. All but one were occupied.

To Ythnel's far left sat Naeros, fidgeting in his chair until the man to the right of him laid a hand on his forearm. That man Ythnel had never seen before. A square jaw, blunt nose, and bushy eyebrows all fought for dominance under a mass of dark, curly hair held back by a thin circlet of gold. There was some resemblance to Naeros, but this face was older, both in years and wisdom. It could only be his father, Jaerios Karanok. That made the elderly man sitting in the middle chair above the others Maelos Karanok, and to the right of him sat Kaestra. The last chair was empty.

The guards halted a few feet from the bottom of the dais and took up flanking positions slightly behind Ythnel. Kaestra got up from her chair and stepped down to the main floor, stopping in front of Ythnel.

"You are here because an accusation of witchcraft has been brought against you," she said in a stiff and formal voice that echoed back louder than she had spoken. "Is there anything you would like to say before judgment is pronounced?" Ythnel nodded.

"Know this, then. Should you try to cast a spell once your gag is removed, you will be killed before you complete the first syllable." Kaestra waited, her eyes locked with Ythnel's. Ythnel did not waver, and Kaestra looked away first, motioning one of the guards to remove the gag.

"I am innocent," Ythnel croaked. It was the first time she had used her voice in… she wasn't sure how long.

"Innocent? Lies will not help your case. There were witnesses. Lord Naeros saw you cast a spell in the marketplace."

"No he didn't. In fact, your brother and your sister both know that I am a handmaiden of Loviatar."

The smug look on Kaestra's face vanished. Her eyes widened, her lips parted slightly, and she turned to look at Naeros. He returned the look with a shrug of his shoulders.

"No matter. My brother may not have seen your wizardry, but I have other witnesses." Kaestra waved at a guard standing near a door on the wall to Ythnel's right. The door was opened and two figures shuffled out. Their hair was matted and their clothes were in disarray, but Ythnel could still recognize Master Saelis and Iuna. They were escorted up to the front of the dais and halted a few feet from Ythnel. Kaestra strode over to stand before Iuna. She bent over and cupped the girl's face with her hand, lifting it up until their eyes met.

"You saw this witch casting spells, didn't you, little one?"

Iuna bit her lip and tried to turn her head to look at her father, but Kaestra kept their gazes locked. "Uh-huh," Iuna mumbled. "Speak louder, child."

"Yes," Iuna quavered. "I saw her casting a spell in-"

"She doesn't know what she's saying! Be quiet, Iuna," Master Saelis interrupted. "The woman is a Loviatan. I hired her as a governess. Do you think I would bring a wizard into this city, into my home? I know the penalty. I don't want to die. Please, you have to believe me. This is all a big mistake." Master Saelis's voice quickly rose in pitch as he spoke faster. "I don't want to die. If you don't believe me, you can search through her belongings. I'm sure you'll find something that verifies what I'm saying."

"Silence!" Lord Jaerios's voice boomed out as he rose from his seat. "I've had enough."

Kaestra looked questioningly at her father as he approached, but he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She bowed out of the way and took her seat. He reached into his robe and produced something hidden in his fist.

"Is this yours?" He opened his hand to reveal Ythnel's scourge medallion. She nodded, a wave of relief washing over her. They knew who she really was. Now they'd have to set her free.

Lord Jaerios closed his fist and tucked the medallion back into his robe. Ythnel looked up to see his face twisted in contempt.

"The cult of Loviatar and its practices are as degenerate and corrupt as those of wizardry. I will not have it in this city, and those I find involved in it I will execute." He returned to his seat.

"I order all three of you to be burned at the stake," Lord Jaerios pronounced. Master Saelis moaned, and Ythnel's heart sank. She could see a smirk forming on Kaestra's lips.

"But I didn't do anything wrong," Iuna wailed. "I tried to tell Daddy to get rid of her, and… and I turned her in. It's not fair."

Maelos Karanok leaned forward in his seat and whispered something to his son, who nodded.

"You are correct, child. You did your best to root out this disease and should be rewarded. For your efforts, I will spare your life. You shall be made a slave to the Temple of Entropy, and attend to my daughter personally."

Kaestra beamed.

Lord Jaerios stood and helped his father down the dais, signaling the hearing was over. Naeros followed them out while Kaestra gave instructions to the guards to deliver Iuna. Master Saelis was brought alongside Ythnel, and the two of them were escorted back out of the chamber. They passed by Lord Jaerios in the hall, who had stopped to talk with a palace servant.

"Find Therescales, and bring him to my study," he told the young boy. "Tell him I have a change in the plan that should take care of the mages once and for all." The servant scampered off out of Ythnel's sight as the guards led her and Master Saelis back down into the dungeon.

There was a young woman behind the desk when Therescales entered the warehouse this time. There were no antiques either. In their place were racks of weapons: swords, maces, axes, and some exotic-looking things that Therescales wasn't even sure how to use, though he imagined it would probably be quite painful if he found himself on the wrong end of one of them. They all appeared to be of fine craftsmanship, many with intricately decorated hilts. One particular dagger, with a gem embedded in its pommel, caught Therescales' eye, but he was not here to shop.

"A fine piece of steel, imported all the way from the Moonshaes. I'm sure you'll find its balance to be near perfect." The young woman had come up on Therescales unawarea sign of how nervous he was. One misstep and he could burn at the stakeor worse if he gave himself away to the mages.

"Actually, I'm interested in a black staff. It was once owned by a shadowy sage who carved symbols all over it."

The hungry light in the woman's eyes dimmed, and her shoulders slumped as she realized she would not be making a sale.

"Yes, of course. If you'll follow me, I believe you'll find what you're looking for over here." She led him to the door behind her desk and unlocked it with a key from her belt pouch. Therescales strode through as soon as it was open.

The illusionary box was in the same place. Therescales descended into the secret passage and inscribed the burning rune to open the hidden door. The others were already filing in to the meeting area, so Therescales slipped into place at the rear of the line.

"It's about time you showed up," the mage in front of him whispered over her shoulder. The hood she wore hid her profile. "Especially considering you were the one who called this meeting."

He ignored the comment as the mages took their seats around the table. Therescales was pleased to see everyone present. An expectant silence hung over the room until Brother Hawk cleared his throat.

"You called the gathering, Brother Asp. Please tell us what was so urgent that you risked our discovery with another meeting so soon after our last."

Therescales blinked at the lack of formality, unsure of what it meant. He glanced at the faces around him, trying to detect if he had somehow been found out. It was rare that councils were ever held this close together, but every member had the right to request one at any time.

Should they be on to him, though, he was ready. He had procured a scroll of invisibility and cast the spell on his dagger, which now hung unseen on his belt. He had also imbibed a potion just before entering the warehouse that would protect his mind from controlling enchantments.

Unfortunately, the various disguises made it almost impossible to accurately read anyone's expression. With no recourse but to press on, Therescales stood. He had rehearsed what to say a thousand times before tonight. He sent a silent prayer to Cyric that they would believe him.

"Brothers, I apologize for the inconvenience, but know that I would not have done so if I did not think the news I have to share was of vital importance." He paused for a moment to be sure he had everyone's attention. "I have learned from a source in the palace that the wizard Brother Hawk was prepared to meet with has been captured and will be publicly executed at dawn, two days hence." Murmurs and gasps sprung up as soon as he finished.

"I've heard nothing of the sort from my contact," Brother Frog bellowed, springing up immediately.

"I'm not surprised, seeing as how your contact couldn't even confirm whether or not the victims of Saestra Karanok were even wizards." Therescales raised an eyebrow, and Frog frowned but sat down.

"How do you know it's even Brother Hawk's ally?" Sister Rat's voice trembled. Therescales turned his head slightly to look at her but watched Brother Hawk from the corner of his eye. This was the catch in the plan. No one knew where Hawk's wizard was from, except maybe Hawk himself. Therescales had been forced to make an educated guess, hope that Hawk did know, and that the guess was right. If he was wrong, at best Hawk would simply reveal that the Karanoks had the wrong person, and the bait would be impotent. Then Therescales would have to find some way to keep Jaerios from burning him at the stake.

Or Hawk could suspect Therescales, and he would find himself at the mercy of the mages.

Therescales trusted he held the right cards, however. There were only so many wizards with the resources and motivation to aid an overthrow of the Karanoks. It was time to play his hand.

"My informant told me that a squad of House Karanok guards had stumbled upon the wizard's camp while patrolling the road up to Mordulkin. It appeared that the wizard had been on his way down from there and was waiting to meet someone." From the periphery, Therescales saw Brother Hawk's shoulder's sag. He forced himself not to smile as triumph welled in his chest.

Therescales took his seat, and everyone looked to Brother Hawk. The leader of the mages stood slowly and leaned on the table.

"Brothers, it appears that Brother Asp's information is correct." The concession was met with more murmurs and gasps. "Please, I'm not finished." Brother Hawk motioned for silence. "In light of this development, we need to immediately begin planning a rescue."

Cries of protest and shock erupted. Therescales was not surprised. He knew the bait wouldn't be taken readily by all. He waited to see how Brother Hawk would do his work for him.

"Order, order! You will be quiet," Brother Crocodile roared.

"I know this isn't how we planned things to progress, but if we can't be flexible, then we're no better than the Karanoks."

"Flexible has nothing to do with it," Brother Fox retorted. "Attacking the Karanoks is suicide."

"It would not be a full-fledged assault. We could hit them on the way to the execution yards. Please, you must see that this is the only way. If we do not at least try, how can we show future allies that we are even worth supporting?" Stone silence met Brother Hawk's plea, and he sat back with a sigh. Therescales decided to risk a little push.

"I call for a vote."

"A vote has been called," Brother Boar declared in his slurred voice. "According to our bylaws, a majority is required to act upon the proposal before us. As arbiter of the vote, I am not allowed to cast my own ballot unless a tie must be broken. I will. call out your name, and you will answer 'aye' if in favor of a rescue attempt or 'nay' if against. I will start to my right. Brother Hawk?"

"Aye."

"Brother Crocodile?" "Aye."

"Brother Chameleon?" "Nay."

"Brother Fox?" "Nay."

"Brother Frog?" "Aye."

"Sister Rat?" "Nay."

"Brother Tortoise?"

"Nay."

"Brother Raven?" "Aye."

"Brother Asp?"

Therescales couldn't help the grin this time. "Aye." "The 'ayes' have it."

"Yes!" Brother Hawk shouted, pounding the table with his fist. He stood once again. "I know that those who voted against this action will act honorably and fully support your comrades. Now here is what I suggest." He nodded to Therescales as he began to outline his plan for the rescue. Therescales just sat back and carefully took note of it all.

Tjeralds from House Karanok had made the rounds through the city yesterday, proclaiming a public execution the following dawn of a foreign wizard. Even though the winter sky was still the gray of diffused morning light, crowds lined the boulevard that ran from Karanok Palace to the execution yards, squeezed together as much for warmth as for the hope of a better view. As the first rays of sun bounced off the marble dome of the palace, a drum roll cadence echoed down the grand staircase that led from the two great bronze doors to the courtyard. Gasps from the crowd announced the appearance of two guards in ceremonial bronze breastplates, shields, and helmets with horsehair plumes, all buffed to a mirror shine. They stood stiff and silent at the top of the stairs then rapped the butts of their spears against the floor before making their way down.

The guards were followed by a pair of clerics dressed in flowing robes of white, swinging censers from which wafted brownish green smoke. Behind the clerics came two pairs of guards dressed in similar ceremonial armor. Shackled between each pair were the condemned: a woman in rags, her dark hair shaved on one side, her face swollen and bruised; and a skinny man with thin, blond hair, his eyes staring off somewhere distant as he stumbled along. Another set of censer-bearing clerics created a buffer between the prisoners and a series of enclosed sedan chairs that undoubtedly carried the members of the Karanok family behind their lowered curtains. Bringing up the rear of the procession were a dozen crossbow-wielding guards, scanning the crowd as they moved out of the courtyard and down the boulevard.

Brother Hawk frowned. Already they encountered a variable they hadn't planned for. Which of the two was the wizard? Brother Frog's contact in the palace had been killed before a description could be obtained.

Brow furrowed, Hawk pushed his way through the crowd, trying to keep pace with the parade. The five other mages followed him, weaving through the rear ranks of spectators. They all wore heavy, hooded cloaks of drab wool pulled tight about them. No one gave them a second glance. The chill air was reason enough to bundle up; being able to hide your face was an added bonus. It had been decided not to use magic for disguises, as the spells would be a beacon announcing their presence to any divinations. That also meant no wands, rings, or staves. So they were left with the spells each had spent the past day preparing. It was an all-or-nothing gamble with the odds stacked high against them. Now with two prisoners to rescue, those odds doubled. There was no way around it, however. They could not take the chance of grabbing the wrong one.

The mages reached the ruins of the Old Wizard's Tower ahead of the parade. No one remembered the name of the former tenant, or at least no one ever spoke it aloud. The tumbled stone, now covered with creepers and other overgrowth, was once a great, white tower that rivaled the current residence of Naeros Karanok. It was also the site of the first enforcement of the Karanoks' law against magic. In the middle of the night, guards from House Karanok had invaded the tower. Explosions echoed across the city, and flashes lit the darkness as various wards and protections were triggered, but the Karanoks had numbers on their side. Outmanned and overwhelmed, the owner of the tower chose to destroy the structure and all the secrets held within rather than turn it over to the rulers of Luthcheq. The rubble was left untouched as a reminder of the fate awaiting those who practiced the forbidden.

Brother Hawk scanned the surrounding buildings as his comrades took their places scattered amongst the crowd. The remaining mages should have been in position since the night before. He peered into dark windows and studied rooftops, trying to catch a glimpse of movement, a sign that all was ready. The rooftops were still, and the windows peered back like the empty sockets of a skull.

Nothing to do but wait, Brother Hawk told himself.

Sections of the crowd were heckling the prisoners as they neared. Rotten vegetables pelted the pair sporadically. Hawk stood on his toes and craned his neck. They were just a few yards away now. He recalled the arcane words that would trigger his spell, holding them until the attack began.

The clerics at the front of the procession had drawn even with Brother Hawk's position. He started to cough as smoke from the swinging censers drifted past him. Brother Hawk put his hand over his face to keep from drawing attention then panicked as he felt the spell slipping from his memory. He closed his eyes to concentrate and fixed the incantation firmly in his mind.

When he opened his eyes, the prisoners had already gone past.

Fear gripped Brother Hawk. Why hadn't the hidden mages attacked? He looked around and met the scared and confused faces of his cconspirators on the ground. Quickly, they all congregated at the rear of the crowd.

"What's going on, Brother Hawk?" Sister Rat's eyes were darting wildly.

"I don't know. Something's happened."

"Yeah, something bad," Brother Frog retorted. "We've failed. I say we call this thing off."

"No!" Brother Hawk nearly shouted. "No, we can't give up yet. There's still a chance to save them. If we don't, we can forget about anyonfeglse offering to help overthrow the Karanoks."

"Do you have a plan?" Brother Crocodile asked. Brother Hawk was relieved that not everyone was ready to run.

"I'll think of something." Brother Hawk moved off before the others could protest. He didn't bother to look over his shoulder as he tailed the procession. Even if they didn't follow, he was going to see this through. He was tired of living in fear in the city he grew up in. He was tired of talking about doing something. It was time to change things.

The sun had finally crested the east city wall when they reached the execution yard. It was rumored that the yard had once been a beautiful public garden with rare flora that drew visitors from around the Realms. The Karanoks changed that in their quest to rid Luthcheq of magic.

The crowd filed in behind the procession, under the watchful gaze of two round towers that guarded an opening in the twenty-foot-high inner wall that separated the city from the triangular field of trampled dirt. On the west and south side, the yard was fenced in by the thirty-five-foot-high walls that surrounded the entire city. At each point of the triangle were the larger towers that flanked the sections of the outer walls. Armed guards patrolled the battlements.

A large, undecorated stone platform ran the length of the south wall. Here the procession diverged with the prisoners and their escort moving to the left, while the Karanoks in their sedan chairs veered to the right. Both groups climbed the stairs at either end of the platform. As the prisoners were bound by their shackles to two wooden poles that rose from a great log pyre built in the center of the platform, the sedan chairs were lowered and the curtains pulled back.

With a sharp intake of breath, Brother Hawk froze in the middle of the milling throng. Gathered together on the platform were the four most powerful members of House Karanok: old Maelos, the family patriarch; Jaerios, true ruler of the city; his son, Naeros; and Kaestra, high priestess of Entropy. With one well-placed fireball, Brother Hawk could reduce the family's control over the city to a pile of ash.

The inner struggle lasted for only a moment. It was tempting, but Brother Hawk knew there were enough Karanok cousins spread across the land that the vacuum would be quickly filled.

"There's no more time." Brother Crocodile touched Brother Hawk on the shoulder. "What do we do?"

"We need a diversion."

Ythnel sagged against the wooden pole, closed her eyes, and let the weariness wash over her. The din of the gathering spectators faded as her consciousness drifted in the darkness of her mind. She had endured all that the Karanoks had put her through for naught. There had been no point to her suffering, no greater purpose. That had been the hardest blow.

Now she was going to die, and she didn't care. If there was no reason for all that she had gone through, then nothing mattered.

Something brushed lightly against her feet. From the rustling sound that accompanied the touch, Ythnel guessed it was witchweed leaves. Even though they knew she was not a wizard, they still went through with the charade. It was pointless.

A voice cried out from somewhere to Ythnel's right, and the crowd grew silent.

"Citizens of Luthcheq, your presence here is a testimony to your zeal in the war against the corruption that is sown by the use of magic. Entropy is pleased." It was the cold, hard voice of Kaestra Karanok. Cheers met her declaration, but they seemed halfhearted at best.

A scream from the crowd snapped Ythnel's eyes open. Across the yard by the two towers guarding the entrance, a large, black globe, perhaps ten feet in diameter, materialized out of the air; arcs of deep purple energy cascaded across its surface. All heads turned; all eyes fixed upon it.

"You see." Kaestra's voice was filled with fervor. "Entropy has come to witness the death of this witch and her servant. Bring the torches." Two guards started forward, burning brands in their hands.

The brands sputtered then erupted in huge clouds of billowing smoke.

A ball of fire streaked from the back of the crowd, blossoming as it neared the platform and exploding upon impact amidst the gathered Karanok crossbow-men. Several small darts of different-colored energy flew from various parts of the crowd to strike the guards now spilling out of the towers and send them tumbling over the battlements to the ground below.

Ythnel squinted, trying to peer through the smoke from burning bodies and sputtering brands, but her eyes were full of tears. From what little she did see, it appeared the yard was in utter chaos. The panicked crowd was running about like stampeding cattle, caught between the burning platform and the manifestation of Entropy. The Karanoks and their remaining entourage were fleeing the platform, only to get pushed back by the press of trapped spectators.

The sound of someone muttering nearby caught Ythnel's ear, and she twisted around to look but could see no one amid the smoke.

"Who's there?"

She was answered by a sudden coughing fit then a curse. Still no one was visible. The muttering started again a few moments later. Ythnel concentrated on the source, trying to pinpoint its location. Something about the muttering was familiar. She couldn't decipher what was being said, but it reminded her of a prayer chant.

That was it! Someone was casting a spell.

In that instant of realization, a figure wrapped in a hooded cloak appeared before her, and her bonds unlatched and fell to the ground.

"My name is Brother Hawk. I am here to free you," the man said, pulling back his hood to reveal a stern face with a set jaw, a tousled mane of black hair, and dark eyes that held a mixture of fear and determination. He reached out a hand to help Ythnel down.

"Please, don't leave me. You have to help me, too." The plea came from the prisoner on the other pole. Ythnel hesitated, her eyes locking with the man who was still bound. She had forgotten about Prisus, her former master.

"There is nothing we can do," hissed Brother Hawk to Ythnel. "I have used what spells I had to free you. Hurry, we have to get out of here."

Ythnel looked away, taking Brother Hawk's hand and climbing down from the pyre. Once down, however, she stopped.

"We have to try." She let go of Brother Hawk's hand and rushed over to Prisus. She scanned the ground for something to use to break the metal cuffs, but there was nothing suitable. With a thunk, a crossbow bolt sank into the post just above Ythnel's head, and she looked up. A guard on the wall was reloading his weapon while keeping one eye on her. She froze, her mind suddenly going blank. The guard brought his crossbow back up and took aim.

Brother Hawk appeared between Ythnel and the guard. He murmured something as his hands moved in front of him. The guard fired at them, but the bolt bounced off an invisible disc of force inches before it reached Brother Hawk.

"Hurry!" he shouted.

"Maybe we can pull them off," Prisus cried over his shoulder. Ythnel took hold of one of the manacles while Prisus tried to pull his hand through. It only took a few seconds before Ythnel realized they would never go over his hands. She released the manacle she was holding, and Prisus looked up at her. When their eyes met, Ythnel could see the pleading in his gaze, but she shook her head and turned away. Brother Hawk started moving for the far side of the platform, and Ythnel followed.

"No!" Prisus wailed.

"The witch is escaping." Alerted by Prisus's cry of despair, Kaestra rushed the platform, calling to the guards on the battlements above. "Shoot them!"

Ythnel looked over her shoulder. Through the clearing smoke, she could see several guards training crossbows at them. A fireball erupted atop the wall, hurling burning bodies over the sides. A single guard remained standing. He aimed his crossbow and fired. With uncanny clarity, Ythnel watched the bolt fly through the smoky air toward her. She felt Brother Hawk grab her wrist and shout something. The air around her shimmered, distorting objects near her like a ripple in a pond. The ripple collapsed upon itself, upon her, and she was standing across the yard by the entrance to the city.

"I have her! Let's go," Hawk shouted. Several cloaked figures converged on Ythnel and Brother Hawk. Together they pushed their way through the churning mass of bodies.

"What about Sister Rat?" one of the figures asked.

"She'll hold the illusion as long as she can then catch up," Brother Hawk answered. "That was the plan."

They were passing through the entrance to the yard when the giant black globe disappeared. No one would have noticed if not for the shouts of the guards up on the battlements. The group watched as Sister Rat's spell failed, and she ran toward them. A whistling filled the air. The sound ended with a thud. Sister Rat glanced down, surprise on her face. Blood welled around the protruding tip of a crossbow bolt that pierced her chest from behind. She took another step and collapsed.

"Run," Brother Hawk breathed. "Run."

Shock kept the group rooted in place despite Brother Hawk's urging. The man grabbed Ythnel by the wrist and dragged her past the towers guarding the entrance to the city. The rest of the group slowly came back to life and scrambled after their fleeing leader.

Directly across the street from the execution yard was a rectangular building that took up almost the entire block and served as stables for the nearby barracks. Releasing Ythnel's wrist, Brother Hawk began a chant, bringing his hands together, fingers spread apart like a fan. With a final word, a sheet of flames shot forth from Brother Hawk's fingertips to engulf the two guards that barred the way. Before the charred remains even hit the ground, Brother Hawk and Ythnel rushed into the building, gasping for breath.

Another guard was inside. He drew his sword and moved to block them from getting to the horses. Ythnel spotted a whip looped around a peg on the wall to her right. Keeping her eyes on the guard, she sidestepped to the wall, grabbed the whip, and in the same motion, sent it snapping out at the guard. It fell well short of the mark, but the threat was enough to make the guard rock back on his heels, halting his charge. Ythnel sent it lashing out again, and this time the whip wrapped itself around the guard's blade. Caught by surprise, the guard was unable to keep his grip on the sword as Ythnel yanked the whip back toward her, and the blade flew from his hand. He lunged for it, but Ythnel tripped him up with the whip, jerking his feet out from under him. Brother Hawk scooped up the sword and plunged it into the prone man's back just as the rest of the mages entered the stable.

"Grab a horse. We'll make for the South Gate." Brother Hawk announced. He turned to Ythnel. "Are you well enough to you ride on your own?"

Ythnel straightened and walked over to a stall. She swung the gate open and approached the horse. Stroking its forehead and neck, she calmed the animal's nervous snorts then heaved herself onto its back. With hands firmly gripping the horse's mane, Ythnel steered the animal out of the stall. Brother Hawk brought his mount up beside her, his eyes questioning. She kicked her heels into the horse's flanks and took off.

The others quickly caught up to her as they galloped east into town. Brother Hawk drew even and pointed to an upcoming intersection, indicating they would turn right. Ythnel rounded the corner first then quickly reined in her horse, causing it to snort and toss its head. Everyone else skidded to a halt behind her.

One hundred yards ahead of them was the South Gate. Between them and the huge wooden doors was a mass of armed soldiers who were already swinging them closed.

"We can't get through here," Ythnel said.

"Back into the city," Brother Hawk ordered. "We'll try the West Gate. It's the next closest. It might be better if we split up and meet again at the gate. You" he pointed at Ythnel" stay with me."

Brother Hawk wheeled his horse around and led the way. They raced through a park block, tree branches slapping at them, and exited onto a wide street running north. Ythnel noticed the others had peeled off during the run through the park. She and Brother Hawk charged ahead without slowing. Pedestrians who found themselves in the path of the wild flight frantically dived aside. One man, crouched down playing dice with his fellows, oblivious to the approaching commotion, was bowled over when Ythnel's horse brushed by him.

The pair followed the street as it curved gradually to the west then urged their mounts faster as it straightened to the north once again. Brother Hawk shouted something at her, and Ythnel looked up to see a row of buildings that marked the street's end. Without slowing, Brother Hawk veered to the left and disappeared down a narrow lane. Ythnel tightened her grip on the horse's mane and followed but took the corner too wide and was pulled off the back of the horse by the force of the turn. Still grasping onto the mane firmly, she was dragged into several wicker baskets stacked under a storefront awning. The baskets went tumbling, spewing their contents across the lane, and the awning collapsed as Ythnel collided with one of the poles holding it up. The horse's mane was ripped from her hands.

Ythnel lay there dazed. For how long, she didn't know. A pair of hands grabbed her, and she flailed, thinking the Karanoks had caught up. She opened her eyes to see several figures backing awaynot guards, just citizens, shopkeepers. Ythnel stood, and the world spun, forcing her to stumble back a step.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded, one hand on her head and the other stretched out to touch the wall of the nearby building and steady herself. A shout from the entrance to the lane drew everyone's attention. Ythnel swore as a squad of city guards appeared. Adrenaline pushing aside the fog in her head, she sprinted out the other end of the lane and into a mire of foot traffic. Ythnel shoved her way through, glancing back occasionally to check on the progress of the guards, who now stood at the mouth of the lane, scanning the crowd. One of them pointed in her direction and cried out. At the squad leader's orders, they fanned out into the crowd.

Ythnel surged ahead with renewed determination, fueled by a growing panic she could not stifle. She kept her head down in an effort to blend better with the slightly shorter Chessentans, but it also prevented her from tracking the progress of the guards. Blindly, she pressed forward.

"You, there! Stop!" The shout brought Ythnel's head back up, and she expected to see an armored figure closing from behind, but there were no guards near her. She cast a glance about, searching for the source of the command. She spotted it in front of her. Somehow, one of the guards had gotten ahead of her and was closing in on a horse and its rider wading its way through the river of people. It took a moment for Ythnel to realize the rider was one of the cloaked figures who had rescued her.

"Brother Hawk!" she shouted in warning, hoping the rider would react to the name, even though it was not his. She was rewarded as he twisted around, his hood falling back to reveal a shaved head and meaty jowls. He scanned the crowd, but did not appear to see her. However, on his sweep back, he saw the guard. His eyes widened, and he tried to urge the horse forward, but the mass of people packed tightly together impeded his flight. The guard was almost upon him.

Ythnel muttered the words of a prayer, calling upon Loviatar and requesting access to the Power. It coursed through her, and she began to shape it with gestures in the air before her. There was nothing to see, no physical manifestation, but Ythnel could feel it building inside her, filling her. She released it, channeling it toward the guard. In her mind's eye, she watched it weave through the crowd, swirl around the guard until it had fully enshrouded him, and settle atop him like a mantle.

The guard stopped and slowly turned around. Even though there were hundreds of bodies between them, Ythnel knew he was looking right at her. She could feel his eyes widen, his heart race, and his body begin to shake. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and palms. He could not control his bodily functions. An unnatural fright was consuming him. With a shriek, the guard bolted in the other direction.

Ythnel started forward again, intent on reaching the rider. As she neared him, she saw his brow furrow while he watched the departing guard.

"That was me," she said as she came up alongside the horse. He looked down at her, puzzlement still on his face. Then recognition struck him. "Mind if I ride along. I seem to have lost my horse?" He nodded, and she accepted his hand up as he hoisted her onto the back of the horse.

Ythnel could now see that they were at the rear of the reassembled group. Brother Hawk was out in front, wading through the river of people walking up and down the street. The others were slowly pushing their way north as well. Ythnel felt her heart pounding as they moved through the crowd. This was taking too long. There were still guards searching for them, and word could reach the guards at the West Gate before they got there. The gate would be closed, and a hundred loaded crossbows would be waiting for them.

"Painbringer's touch!" Ythnel cursed out loud. Loviatar had freed her, even after she had let doubt shake her faith. She was not going to squander this second chance. She would get out. Ythnel dug her heels into the horse's flanks, and the animal leaped forward, trampling pedestrians as it surged ahead. Her fellow rider yelped but seemed at a loss as to how to stop the animal. Ythnel did not care. All that mattered was that she reach the gate.

They overtook the other riders and soon reached Brother Hawk just as he was turning left off the street onto another that led to the West Gate. Wagons, riders on horseback, and travelers on foot stood in a line waiting their turn to pass through the gate. There was no sign of alarm as the rest of the group caught up.

"There was no need for" one of the riders began, waggling a finger at Ythnel, but looks from the others silenced him.

"All right, everyone. We're not out of this yet, but it appears that word hasn't reached this far yet," Brother Hawk said. "So let's just take deep breaths and" There was a commotion at the front of the line, and guards began pouring out of the towers onto the wall. The thirty-foot-high, iron-reinforced wood doors of the West Gate groaned as they began to swing inward, cutting off the countryside beyond the city walls.

"Azuth's beard!" Brother Hawk said, his horse prancing in a circle. With a cry from its rider, the horse bolted down the line in a race to beat the closing gate. The remaining mages hesitated for only a breath. The doors were moving together too fast; there was no way they could make it. Something whooshed overhead, accompanied by a wave of heat, and Ythnel looked up to see a swirling mass of flames growing larger as it hurtled toward the gate. It rapidly overtook Brother Hawk and slammed into the gate doors with a thunderous boom, sending splinters of wood in all directions. Ythnel looked back to see one of her rescuers lower his hands. Then the other riders shot past her on their way out of the city.

As they approached the shattered gate, crossbow bolts began to rain down on the street from the battlements. People scattered, shrieking as missiles struck targets indiscriminately. The horses dodged and weaved as they carried their riders through the charred remains of the West Gate. Ythnel crouched low to avoid the many bolts flying through the air from all directions. Something brushed her shoulder, and she looked up to see a shaft stuck in her companion's head. The horse jumped over a large piece of debris from the gate, and he slid from the horse, almost pulling Ythnel along with him before she realized what was happening. She wrenched her arms free from around his waist at the last moment and grabbed onto the horse's mane as it galloped into open country.

She didn't slow down. She didn't stop. She didn't care. She was free.

Her horse let out a loud neigh and tumbled to the ground; Ythnel rolled free before it could land on her. She got to her feet and saw that horse was standing once again. Concerned about the cause of the spill, Ythnel made a cursory examination of the animal. She quickly found the crossbow bolt embedded in the horse's haunch. It would not be able to run any farther.

The other mages had already broken through the gate and where increasing the distance between themselves and the city with each breath. There was no one to come back and help Ythnel. She looked back to the gate, caught by indecision, and saw a lone rider galloping toward her. Instinctively, she knew it was the first of the city guards who pursued them.

Ythnel grabbed the shaft of the bolt in both hands and pulled. The horse let out a terrible shriek as the missile tore free, and it almost kicked Ythnel. Tossing the bolt aside, Ythnel laid her hands over the wound and said a quick prayer to Loviatar. When she removed her hands, there wasn't even a scar.

The mounted guard was almost upon her as she swung up onto her horse's back and spurred it into a gallop. She looked over her shoulder as she sped away and saw that he was still in pursuit and gaining. Ythnel urged her horse on, but it was at its limit already. Then the guard was right beside her. Before she could react, he punched her in the jaw with his mailed fist. Ythnel's vision flared white, and she almost fell from her horse, but somehow she managed to hold on. She tried to move away, but the guard followed her.

That's when she noticed the dagger hanging from his side.

She swung her horse into the guard's mount, surprising him. As he tried to maintain control, she grabbed his dagger and plunged it into his face. With a cry, he fell from his horse, and it veered away. Now all Ythnel had to do was catch up.