Serial Saturday: "Clan of Outcasts" Season 3, Part 11

Part 11

"Happy Birthday, Zayra!"

The sun had barely peeked over the horizon when His Royal Highness Prince Beren crept softly into the bedroom of his wife. The room lay in semidarkness. It would be a few minutes more before the sun reached the north-facing windows. He smiled; after the massive upheaval of the day before, she deserved to be absolutely pampered today! He stepped into the bedroom, approaching her canopied bed on soundless feet. Grabbing one side of the curtain, he flung it wide crying, "Happy Birth--STOP, YOU DOG!"

A quick thrust with his hands and his Gift rushed out in a torrent of ice, freezing a strange man just in the act of plunging a knife into the sheet that covered Zayra. He stopped the man, but not before the knife pierced the fabric. Frantically, Beren let loose an angry roar as he felt around the sheet, looking for his invisible, intangible wife. Velora charged into the room, shifting into wolf-form as she did, snarling and snapping at the rigid, ice-bound intruder. The others followed closely--not the least of which was Queen Azelie.

"Where is she?" Beren thundered, his fear manifesting in bursts of ice blasting around the room so that no one besides Velora and her hair-trigger reflexes could safely cross the threshold. "Did he kill her? Is she dead, and we have lost all hope of reaching her and undoing the magic that prematurely took her from us? By heaven, has he murdered my wife?"

"Beren, STOP!" Azelie put the full force of her telepathic powers behind her words, and he fell still as if she had reached inside his head and physically smacked the sense into his brain. All attention focused on the queen as she pointed to a plush quilt arranged quite peculiarly on the sofa in her parlor.
"She's sitting right there," Azelie explained. "She's fine."

No one spoke for several moments; the only sound was the croak of a passing crow outside. Finally, upon trembling legs, Beren slipped off the ruined bed and staggered over to the couch. He lay a gentle hand on the blanket, forcing himself to imagine Zayra returning the gesture. "Happy birthday, love," he muttered.

Velora, meanwhile, shifted into her human form and scowled at the frozen man. He may have been incapacitated by the sudden sheet of ice, but his eyes still moved--he was alive and conscious after all that. She sniffed, trying to get his scent through the freeze. "Meanwhile," she growled, "who is this scoundrel?"

The man stood at about Beren's height, with a beard less groomed and more scruff. He wore dark clothing, and when Anahita retrieved his knife and examined it, she shook her head. "Look," she said to King Jaran, presenting the full hilt. "The knife is designed with a concealed vial in the hilt, which feeds into a small vein running down the blade of the knife."
"A poisoner's blade?" Erlis gasped from behind the royal couple. Damaris scurried in behind her.
Anahita nodded. "He was going to stab her, and the poison would have taken effect before even you could heal the wound."

"But why?" Beren bounded to his feet, his wrath boiling over and clarifying the trail of ice he'd left. He crossed the room and stuck his head out the door. "You there!" he barked at the failed guard standing watch outside Zayra's door. "Get some iron shackles, quickly!"

The soldier saluted and passed the word along. Presently, another soldier came up to the room with chains. As Beren melted the ice on the man's limbs, they clapped the shackles on him, so that by the time he could speak, the man was tightly bound and sitting in one of the chairs from the parlor. Velora used the velvet sash from the curtains to tie his neck to the high back, further ensuring he wouldn't try to escape, or risk strangling himself.

The dark eyes glared at the people surrounding him. His jaw muscles clenched, but he remained silent.
"Who are you?" Velora demanded.
"Who sent you to kill the princess?" Beren snarled.
"Tell us everything," Jaran said, flexing his fingers and letting the blue electricity arc between them, "or face immeasurable pain."
Fear flickered through the man's eyes, but it was gone in less time than it takes to blink.
The Gifted royals braced themselves, each of them wanting a fight, yet still hesitating to torture a bound man--even though that man had attempted to kill one of them.

Abruptly, the man's face twisted into an awful grimace, and he began writhing and tugging at his bonds.
Azelie stepped forward, her gaze fixed upon the man. She said nothing, her hands hung at her sides, but when she finally staggered back, she was gasping for breath as if she had actually wrestled with the man.

"His name..." she panted, "is Raedyn. He comes from a place without a name, it's very remote, across the sea."
"No more!" The man seethed. "S-stop!" He leaned forward against the gag around his throat, spluttering and rasping as he tried to obstruct his own airway.

"Edri!" Beren shouted, as Velora yanked the man's head back by his hair.
The Commander arrived at the room, having been notified by her men that the threat had been apprehended already. She bowed to the King and Queen. "Your Majesties."
Jaran pointed to the prisoner. "Take this man to the dungeons and probe him for any information as to who sent him and why he came here. I want names, motivations--everything. You have my permission to use any means necessary."

Edri stiffened at the apparent harshness--since when had Jaran gotten so brutal? Erlis met her gaze. "He would have succeeded in killing Zayra if she hadn't been out of bed already," she informed the soldier.
Edri accepted the gravity of the situation and called for assistance to lift the man to his feet and lead him down the hallway toward the dungeons.

The young commander kept her expression firm but neutral as Sir Monte entered with a couple other soldiers, the very picture of professional security--as if he hadn't been the one on duty when this cretin got in! She gestured for the soldiers to take hold of the prisoner, and led the way without speaking. As they reached the base of the tower to cross over to the dungeon gate, Edri studied the man who had breached the castle without anyone realizing it. He seemed average enough: rough-cropped hair, scruffy lines of hair along his jaw, well muscled, a couple inches taller than Monte, with all of his swagger--and yet something in the glint of his eyes, the composure of his face, the way he carried himself in spite of his shackles... this was no mere random occurrence. This man had been specially selected--and she was going to find out who had done the selecting.

There was a tree in the courtyard--Justin's tree, the one that grew out of the roots that Javira had pulled up in their fight against Troy. Edri tightened her jaw and forced herself to ignore the memories that sprang up--the way Javira had tried to use her newfound Gift to assist the Gifted ones, pulling roots through the flagstones to impede the ones Troy had so aggressively jacked... including Velora, who had suddenly gone feral for no apparent reason, and attacked--
The prisoner gave a lurch and almost bowled Edri over, jerking her from her memories.
"Get 'em away from me!" he moaned.
"Oi!" Monte barked, yanking the shackles. "Keep it moving, and quit yapping!"

Edri focused on the man's face. He'd blanched several shades, and he'd lost the keen confidence he'd displayed in the bedroom. His eyes roved wildly, and he shrank away from the shade of the tree. Edri frowned. All she could see were a couple of black birds--nothing to warrant this man's sudden onset of terror.
She shot Monte a warning look. The King had instructed her to use any means necessary--and if that meant luring a couple crows to the cell block window to give the illusion that they were haunting him somehow, so be it.
"Take him to the interrogation cell," she instructed her soldiers. "I will be there in a moment."

She veered off, toward the barracks' mess hall. A stale loaf of bread from the basket of leftover provisions suited her purpose. She returned to the tree where the crows waited. She crushed the dry crust into crumbs and scattered them on the ground. Retreating a few steps, she waited.
She didn't have to stand there long. A few minutes later, the crows descended with a series of squawks. They snapped up a few of the crumbs before flying off again, testing the limits of the area.
Edri dropped more crumbs, this time creating a trail that led away from the tree--at first, the crows just sat on their branch and croaked at her, but by and by, she had them hopping and flapping close to the ground, pecking at the trail of crumbs a fair distance from the tree. After a second handful, she tucked the remainder of the loaf under her arm, heedless of the dribbling crumbs as she walked over to the dungeons. Just outside one of the windows, she stopped and carelessly dropped the loaf right there on the ground. She could hear more squawking and croaking as she went inside the darkened room.
Monte had been venting some of the aggression he'd demonstrated upon Sir Landis the other day, in "softening" the prisoner. Edri could see the blood on his face, dribbling from his nose, the bruises already on his chin. She gave a nod to Sir Roger, stationed at the door.

"I heard that they caught him in the act of stabbing the Princess," he said quietly. His face was somber, but it wasn't seething outrage--more pity she saw. "It is good that everyone could be there to protect her, and we would be on alert... but something tells me there are other forces at play, here."
Edri snorted. "I agree," she said. "But he hasn't been forthcoming so far, so it's time for some answers."
The squawking and flapping of hungry crows feasting on bread was especially loud in the room. Edri strode inside, her eyes fixed on the man. "So, Raedyn from across the sea," she declared loudly, commanding his attention and sending Monte out of the room at a gesture. "What brings you on such a long voyage to The Realm?"

Raedyn glared at her from under a large welt forming on his forehead. "What do you think brought me?" he spat through a mouthful of blood. "I needed money, so I was hired on the black market for a job."

"By whom?" Edri pressed. "They're not going to be happy that you failed, by the way, and nobody's going to hire a deadbeat assassin who can't finish his kills, so there goes any credibility you ever had--"
"I ain't a deadbeat!" Raedyn growled, lunging forward. It was difficult to do while his arms were tied over the back of the chair. "She didn't tell me I'd be heading into a nest of crazy ice-blasters and freaky witches digging around in my own head--"

Edri called up her lion's strength as she decked him across the side of the head. "You will use respect when referring to The Queen!" she roared. She loomed over him, gripping his shoulder hard enough to evoke a groan of pain from him. "Tell me who sent you!"
Raedyn's eyes riveted in her direction and widened in terror--but she wasn't the object of his gaze. Edri cast a glance over her shoulder, and saw two curious crows sitting on the window-ledge, having consumed their fill of the bread, and now absorbed by the human interactions on display. A smile curled her lips. "You seem to be very terrified of those birds," she needled him.
Raedyn swallowed, not daring to tear his eyes away. "I've seen what they can do," he muttered under his breath.

Edri reached one hand over his shoulder to the back of the chair and pulled it around so that his back was toward the window. He still tried to twist his head around to watch the crows that had by now flown away out of boredom, but she slapped his knees with a short staff to call his attention back to her. "Believe me," she said, making herself as menacing as possible, "I've done worse than those buzzards." She called over her shoulder, "Monte!"
He rushed in, a great deal more respectful of her than he had been just a day earlier. Edri waved a dismissive hand at the man. "This man stays here till he talks. Use whatever methods you like. I need to connect with our intelligence sources, to get more info on this man."
"Please!" Raedyn burst out, shaking in his seat. His eyes were wide as he watched the young Commander. "Don't leave me in here with them! Please! Lock me in a cell if you like, put me in the deepest prison you have--just don't keep me where they can see me!"

Edri turned back to the terrified man, wondering what he meant by them... and then she saw that the crows were back. Squabbling among themselves, croaking and flapping--doing normal things that crows in close proximity sometimes did.
"If you want us to make any concessions for you," she said, "You'll need to give us the name of the person who hired you."
"I... I can't!" Raedyn hissed, hanging his head. "They'll hear!" His eyes darted from the crows to the man currently sizing up clubs and testing their weight in his meaty hands.
Edri shrugged. "Then my man here is just going to have to beat it out of you--so you'll be spilling something, whether it's blood or secrets."

She made sure to close the door securely as she left the room. Only then did she succumb to the feeling of revulsion that crawled over her. The Lion inside her was more suited to the cold-hearted commitment to justice--Edri herself was more inclined to gestures of mercy. If they weren't so pressed for time, in case the threat was still at large in The Realm, she'd be more likely to ply him with gentle treatments, comfort and kindness, to sway his loyalty to their side.

"For what it's worth," a voice rumbled from beside her, "you don't need to be hard on yourself or your men." Sir Roger leaned forward, stroking his beard. "That Raedyn could make it as far as he did is not due to any particular failure of you or your team to guard against it--and it probably won't happen again. Such a high level of skill is rare in the criminal world."

Edri sighed and let her shoulders relax. "I just thought..." she whispered. "After Troy... and once Balwyn's son was king... That we might all be past this."

The burly knight shrugged. "So did I; but someone had some very deliberate and malevolent intentions toward them, and she managed to find exactly the right man for the job, one with high standards and very few flaws."

Edri tilted her head to one side to consider this. "So the enemy is a female, one with a considerable amount of cunning... And you're wrong," she eyed Sir Roger with a small smirk. "Raedyn does have at least one flaw: he's deeply averse to crows, for some reason."

Sir Roger raised a bushy eyebrow. "Crows, eh? That reminds me... When I was but a young cadet, I heard tell of a Gifted girl once who could talk to birds. She never traveled anywhere but she had a flock of some sort hovering over her." He chuckled. "What strange forms these Gifts take, wouldn't you say?"
Edri shrugged, and walked out of the dungeon to head over to the office and see what she could dig up about Raedyn, the black market of The Realm, and any chance of a woman with a thing against established royalty.
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In the Dining Hall of the White Castle, the Seramis brothers, their spouses, and their guests tried to carry on with a normal day by having breakfast. At least, Beren, Jaran, Erlis, and Velora ate. Risyn seemed content with a foraged meal he'd gathered himself, from some forgotten corner of the grounds. Aurelle and Azelie both picked at their food, the former between tapping out little flashing illusions that fizzled on the table. Denahlia tried to eat, but the food held no taste for her. She glanced at the misshapen blanket draped on the chair beside Beren.

Queen Azelie flinched and dropped her fork, glaring across at Zayra's seat. "You don't have to shout," she grunted. "It's not my fault you can't eat." She dabbed the corner of her mouth with her table linen. "What do you want me to say?" she asked. "I do feel sorry for you, and I acknowledge that it must be miserable to feel hunger but not be able to satisfy yourself."

Risyn lifted his head, his purple eyes glinting. "Your majesty," he nodded toward the empty chair as if he could see something that the others could not. "If I may suggest, I have a spell that a Mage can use during times of famine, so that their strength does not diminish. If I can get it to attach to the magic signature of that thing you wear, perhaps it might help these hunger pains until we can find a way for you to consume food." The others were all watching Azelie to see how she would relay Zayra's words, but Risyn did not.

Azelie answered anyway. "She says she'd be willing to try anything at this point. She..." Here Azelie balked and pity overwhelmed her expression. "She hasn't eaten anything since yesterday morning."
Risyn arose to stand behind Zayra's chair.

At the same time, Denahlia gasped and jumped to her feet, gripping her right wrist in her left hand with a cry. She splayed the fingers of both hands before her, as if reading from a large parchment, and her brow furrowed deeply. "What?" she gasped. "No!" Her finger slid back and forth in a flicking motion. "Dang it, Hayden--what have you done now?"

Jaran leaned forward. "Is there a problem?" he asked the Harbor Watch.

Denahlia looked at him, and her eyes briefly flickered over to Beren, but she gave a bow in Jaran's direction. "Your Majesty, it appears I am needed immediately down at the Harbor. I wish you all the best of luck in resolving this situation."
Jaran nodded. "We are grateful to have had you here to stop the villain Raedyn from killing our noble sister. Go and resume your duties."

Denahlia departed the castle, her implants inundated with a stream of alarms from all over the region.

After she left, Velora stretched and pushed aside her empty plate. "Delicious!" She said. "I wish I knew someone who cooked that good down in the forests!" She chuckled.
Azelie patted her hand. "We're just glad to have our cook back in one piece, thanks to some quick thinking and good instinct," she said.

Velora stood from the table. "Well, as much as I'd like to stay, I think it's best if I return to the Forest and get in touch with Prince Spruce."
Beren glanced narrowly at her. "Why would you need to initiate contact?" he asked.
Velora waved her hand. "Just something that came up when Denahlia's cousin came into town. There's a small dragon flying around somewhere around here, you see, and--"
"The one who laid the egg?" Erlis interrupted, suddenly interested in the conversation for the first time.

Velora nodded. "They blame one among us for removing the dragon from their sanctuary--but the more I think about it, the more I've come to realize that perhaps Hadrian--that's the dragon--made the choice to leave Elvendom and lay her egg out here in the Realm."

Erlis nodded. "Elvish views on dragon sovereignty would allow Hadrian to voluntarily choose when she would return to the sanctuary, rather than them trying to round up and recapture a dragon with a newborn Wyrmling."
Velora snapped her fingers. "And just like that, their authority to hold Gavin is gone." She grinned. "Not to mention that I could probably use the attack on Zayra as evidence that, if there's absolutely no way Hadrian could have left on her own accord, this shady black market could have probably gotten somebody to attempt to steal a dragon from the Elvish realm. And that doesn't mean it's Markus."

Jaran shook his head. "It sounds like you've got plenty to return to. Thank you for coming here to warn us when you did. You have done very well."
Velora bowed and left.

Zayra's blanket shifted and began floating away. Risyn asked the King and his brother to follow him to discuss something privately, and the others slowly dispersed. Azelie pursued her invisible sister-in-law.
"Zayra!" She called.
The blanket stopped.
Azelie offered a reassuring smile toward what she hoped was Zayra's face. "Happy birthday," she said. "I know it wasn't anything like any of us were hoping, but we all do still care about you."
The blanket dropped, and Azelie could feel Zayra's troubled thoughts drifting further and further away, until they were out of her reach altogether.

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