Wayra followed a servant down a wide marble hall in the palace of Diodor. Although substantial, the building felt rather provincial to her. The Hallvarri penchant for straight lines and solid, simple design made the palace functional but not very inspiring. Had she been heading for the throne room, she wouldn’t have needed a guide. It took determination to get lost in the main corridors.

She wasn’t headed for the throne room, however. Only an hour in Diodor and already summoned to meet King Leszek. They may not have been imaginative but the Hallvarri were efficient. A little too efficient for her taste today. Events were moving fast and she was late. The king’s summons did not bode well.

Rain pounded the city and the palace halls were mostly empty. They passed a pair of enormous windows that usually offered panoramic views of the harbor but tonight revealed only sheets of rain streaming down the glass in undulating waves.

The shifting water reflected her face poorly but even perfect mirrors could do little for her. She had given up pretending to worry about her appearance years ago. Her brown hair, when she bothered to wash it, hung limp to her shoulders. Her distorted reflection looked even more pinched and skeletal than normal, although her eyes stood out clearly.

Unusually large, those pale blue orbs shone with inner fire, reflecting her unwavering conviction in her mission. The future of the Six Kingdoms would be decided soon and she was destined to play a pivotal role in directing that future.

A gentle tickle at the back of her neck startled her. The precursor to a mindlink connection, the feeling returned tentative, as if the sentinel trying to contact her knew she did not wish to be disturbed. If the message was important enough to bother her, they shouldn’t have hesitated. Not breaking stride, she shielded her mind and opened herself to the contact, expecting to hear the voice of one of the kestrels in her party.

Wayra.

Weak and distant, she didn’t recognize the voice. She buttressed her mental shields and prepared to strike if the unknown sentinel proved hostile.

Who is this? She threw the thought across the psychic connection.

Antigonus.

She gasped. Where are you?

Hurt. The connection wavered, his mindvoice barely above a whisper. She threw her own strength into the link, trying to sense his location. It helped only a little since mindlink connections were sustained by the sentinel who initiated contact. Bajaran. . . betrayed . . . dying.

Then he was gone.

Wayra’s thoughts raced as she stared unseeing at an intricate tapestry hanging on the wall. She had sensed he was far to the south but that was not precise enough.

The effort required to establish and maintain a mindlink connection increased exponentially with the distance between sentinels. Even fully rested, she could not stretch her mind so far. That Antigonus could do so when gravely injured only underlined the importance of her mission. She needed more power to shape the empire’s future the right way.

His words haunted her. Hurt. Betrayed.

Bajaran had already struck. It’s not supposed to happen this way. If Bajaran succeeded, the disaster would sweep away everything she’d worked for. But Antigonus was wounded, not dead. Had he killed Bajaran? Or did the betrayer still hunt him?

Did Antigonus know about Rhea?

Wayra didn’t have enough information. She had to act and act quickly if she was to have any chance of salvaging the situation. She forced her doubts aside. I am ready. I will not fail.

“It is a beautiful tapestry, ma’am.” The servant's voice pulled her from her reverie.

Light preserve me from fools.

“Lead on,” she ordered. The man resumed walking, although he cast furtive glances at her every dozen paces or so.

She ignored him as she considered the best way to track down Antigonus. They turned off the main halls, climbed a long stair, and finally halted at the end of an elaborate hallway before a pair of tall double doors engraved with the crest of the royal House Dalagan.

Interesting that a pair of Outriders flanked the doors instead of the traditional palace guard. The elite Chandravernan soldiers wore their trademark suits of close-fitting chain and leather armor under cloaks of mottled forest hues.

The guards opened the double doors and the attendant announced her before motioning her into the expansive study. Unlike the simple, functional decor of the rest of the palace, this room was richly decorated in polished mahogany, thick carpets and gilt-edged furniture. Leather-bound books filled shelves spanning the length of the wall to her right, while to her left a fire crackled in a deep hearth. Above the mantel hung pennants bearing the heraldic emblems of the various houses that had ruled Hallvarr over the past two centuries.

King Leszek sat in a tall padded armchair behind an enormous mahogany desk. A window took up most of the wall behind him, although tonight it revealed nothing but sheeting rain.

The king greeted her with a polite smile as he set aside the parchment he had been reading. Leszek was past his prime, but still handsome. Captivating hazel eyes shone out from his broad, rugged face. His thick, raven hair was graying around the temples, giving him an additional air of distinction.

Solidly built but not yet run to fat, he cut an impressive figure in his gold, sleeveless doublet over a forest green silk shirt. A finely tailored russet coat hung over the back of his chair.

“Wayra, thank you for coming.”

“I was honored to receive the invitation, Your Majesty,” she replied with a curtsy.

Although not technically a subject of Hallvarr, as an adept sentinel and adjutant to the gerent of Il’Aicharen, she had represented the enclave in Diodor on a handful of occasions.

“I have a message for you from Antigonus,” Leszek said.

“Antigonus? When did you see him?” she asked, taking a step forward.

Leszek raised an eyebrow and she regretted her lapse in self-control. If only Antigonus had contacted her after the audience instead of before. The recent mindlink had left her rattled.

“You were expecting to see him, I take it.”

“Yes.” It was a fact she wished he didn’t know, but she couldn’t deny it.

“You’re late then. He stopped here six days ago, and then headed south. What are your plans?”

Although not a sentinel, the king possessed a piercing gaze that undoubtedly proved effective on those not used to wielding actinic magic. Wayra considered how best to downplay the significance of Antigonus’ visit but the king was no fool.

Under the king’s intense stare she said, “I was to accompany him on part of his journey.”

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He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, his expression grave, eyes distant. After a moment, he muttered, “Too early. It’s too early.”

His gaze snapped up to meet hers again as he leaned forward. “But it is happening, isn’t it?” His face paled. “And it involves Antigonus?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Your Majesty.”

“No one said anything about Antigonus. What’s really going on?”

“I don’t know yet. I need to find him.”

“This changes things.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She refused to show the dismay his words caused. If King Leszek decided to intervene, it could destroy the plan, and in the ensuing chaos, the enemy might just succeed in escaping with Tia Khoa.

“It does,” the king shot back, rising to his feet. “I was misled. The timing is wrong and Antigonus is involved. Antigonus! If anything happens to him. . ." His voice trailed off as his thoughts followed that line to its likely conclusion. He sank back into his seat. “I can’t do it.”

"Do?" Wayra stepped closer and leaned over the desk, her gaze boring into his. “You must do nothing. I will deal with the situation. These are sentinel matters and if you meddle in them you could destroy everything: your kingdom, your reign. . .everything. I have a dozen sentinels with me, all battle-trained kestrels.”

The kestrels in her party were all experienced sentinels, either proven or adept. Bajaran may have slipped past her, but he could not escape.

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“You have to trust me,” she said in her most confident voice.

The king regarded her for half a dozen heartbeats before nodding. She let out a slow breath but before she could congratulate herself on averting a disaster he added, “I’m sending Nikias with you.”

She rolled her eyes and swallowed a curse. Nikias, that young fool! He had no idea how to wield the awesome power entrusted to him. He was like a berserker at a tea party, totally unpredictable and more likely to damage their efforts than help.

She forced calm into her voice. “That’s a mistake, Your Majesty. We can--“

“No,” he cut her off. “You want me to trust you. I will, but not blindly. If my stalwart were here, I’d send him. But he’s not, so Nikias will do. He will accompany you and follow your lead but he reports to me.”

She opened her mouth to object again but he raised a hand.

“I have spoken.” Leaning forward, he added in a soft voice. “Consider this a partnership, the kingdom and the sentinels working together.” His eyes narrowed and he continued, “If you deny me this, I will be forced to seal off the kingdom, marshal all of my troops, and flood the kingdom with them.”

He had her and he knew it. “It will be as you command, Your Majesty. I leave within the hour.”

“Very well. Nikias will be ready. You are dismissed.”

She turned to go but before she reached the door he called after her. “Wayra, keep me posted. If I don’t hear from you regularly, I’ll assume you’ve failed and will be forced to act.”

She nodded without turning and strode from the room, dismissing the king from her thoughts as she laid her plans. There was much to do and more than the fate of one little kingdom hung in the balance.

# # #

Twenty minutes later, the double doors to the king’s study banged open and Nikias swaggered into the room. Nineteen years old, he was of average height. Trim, with broad shoulders, he dressed in tan leather breeches and a tight-fitting black leather jerkin cut to accentuate his muscular torso. His blond hair hung down to his shoulders, pulled back from his face with a rawhide cord. The coat of arms of House Dalagan was emblazoned in red over his heart.

In his right hand he carried the Bladestaff.

One of the six weapons of power, it had been entrusted to Hallvarr over two centuries ago during the Great War that resulted in the formation of the empire. Intricate inlaid silver runes ran the length of its five-foot shaft of rare and deeply-polished white waxwood, capped at both ends with broad, eighteen-inch blades of the same silvery metal as the runes.

Nikias bowed deeply. “You sent for me, Your Majesty?”

“Yes. We have a crisis on our hands and the kingdom needs you.”

Nikias’ smile widened and he swelled with pride. Raising the Bladestaff in salute, he declared, “I am ready!”

Blue flame ignited along the blades and crackled down the silvery lengths. Nikias spun the weapon around his body and the twin blades trailed streams of blue fire in their wake. As bearer of the Bladestaff, Nikias was endowed with uncommon speed, while the magic of the Bladestaff protected and strengthened him.

King Leszek fought to suppress an irritated frown as he watched with alarm the magical flames licking the air close the bookcase.

“That is enough.”

“Oh.” Nikias cringed and the flames winked out. “Sorry.”

“We don’t have much time. You leave in half an hour.”

“Where am I going?” His excited grin returned.

“You will accompany Sentinel Wayra and her party south. You will rendezvous with Sentinel Antigonus and escort him safely to Diodor or to Tamera, whichever he prefers.”

“Really?” Nikias bounced on his toes. “Is Antigonus in trouble?”

“Perhaps. Something is going on and Wayra is leaving to determine the extent of the threat.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty!” Nikias cried. He spun and rushed for the door.

“Nikias,” the king called after him, rising to his feet.

Nikias spun in midstride. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Be very careful. The enemy could be anywhere.”

Nikias grinned even wider, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“You represent me personally on this mission,” the king continued. “No matter what Wayra or anyone else says, you will follow my orders and see that nothing happens to Antigonus. He is your responsibility. Is that clear?”

“Yes, my king!” Nikias saluted, then dashed from the room.

King Leszek groaned and fell back into his chair, one hand over his eyes.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to send that fool?” A voice asked.

The king removed his hand as Commander Tekla rose from an overstuffed chair facing the fire, where he had remained hidden from view. The commander was a lean, grizzled soldier with white hair and steel-gray eyes. He stood tall, his broad shoulders unbent by six decades of hard life.

He strode around the chair, his movements smooth and powerful. As commander of the Wolves, the elite of the Outriders, he was the living exemplar of everything his forces stood for.

“No, I’m not sure,” the king admitted, “but I need someone in that party who won’t be totally helpless when things go bad.”

“I don’t think he can handle it. He’s been bearer for less than a year. He’s headstrong and reckless.”

“I know, but he serves the purpose I have set for him. His death would be unfortunate.”

“Every death serves a purpose,” Tekla replied automatically, repeating the mantra of the Outriders.

King Leszek nodded. “Perhaps the next bearer would be easier to manage.” He shrugged and added, “I had expected the Blade Stalwart to handle things but the timing is wrong. I’m afraid we’ve been misled.”

“It was unwise to lend the stalwart to Piran.”

“Perhaps.”

“This could prove disastrous.”

“Perhaps,” the king said again and rubbed a hand across his face. “The kingdom is in grave danger and we must prepare to defend our interests. For the good of the Chandravernan, the kingdom, and the empire. But we must tread cautiously or everything we’ve planned will be destroyed.”

“Do you trust Wayra?”

King Leszek leaned back in his chair and stared at the large pennant bearing the coat of arms of his house as he considered his recent conversation with the sentinel. He did not like Wayra but she held a prominent position in the enclave at Il’Aicharen so she had to be capable.

She seemed confident in her ability to prevent disaster but she was late. The plan he’d agreed to was a good one and should ensure the perpetuation of his kingdom, but that plan seemed to be at risk. There was too much at stake for anything to go wrong.

Meeting Commander Tekla’s gaze he said, “No, I don’t trust her. What is the current disposition of our forces?”

“In Diodor we have one full legion of regulars, three hundred Outriders, and three Jagen Stalwarts.”

“How many more Outriders can we marshal within a week?”

“If we strip the nearest Chandravernan outposts, we can assemble at least a column. If we had longer, we could raise a full legion.”

“I don’t think we have that much time. Muster those you can and see if you can call in any more Jagen Stalwarts.”

“As you command.”

# # #

All of them?

Yes, Wayra hurled the thought at Ruggiero. This is an emergency. We need them all. Strip Il’Aicharen of every kestrel and make haste for Diodor. I’ll send you further instructions later.

Despite the gravity of the situation, a thrill of excitement raced through her. With the ten kestrels at Il’Aicharen added to the dozen already at her disposal, she’d be commanding the most powerful force of battle-ready sentinels assembled in the past half-century. She would not fail.

The gerent will be angry. He'll be left with no more than a couple competent sentinels in the enclave, Ruggiero cautioned.

Don’t argue with me.

Ruggiero was a strongly gifted sentinel and a dedicated kestrel but sometimes he worried too much.

Tell him you act on my command. He rules Il’Aicharen, but I lead the kestrels. After a calming breath she added, Tell him I will contact him soon and explain further. That should placate him.

Very well. We will leave at first light.

Wayra broke the connection and wiped her sweating face. Reaching nearly two hundred miles across Hallvarr to Il’Aicharen to establish the mindlink connection with Ruggiero had taxed her strength to the limit. As she steadied her heavy breathing, she smiled with fierce pride. Few sentinels could reached so far.

Turning to the mirror in the small room she had commandeered to initiate the mindlink, she smiled at her skeletal reflection, not minding in the least how unnatural her wide eyes looked.

She was ready.

Opening the door, she beckoned the kestrels into the room. With their power augmenting her own, she could cast her thoughts even greater distances. The connection would be difficult, but they had to make the attempt.

Her master needed to know what was going on.