Why Use Words

Joree scrambled for the stairs immediately, rushing by two servants who yelped and jumped out of his way. No soldiers were posted in this entry chamber, but he guessed based on the alarm bells that the entire palace would soon be flooded with them.

To the Flames with that Delani, he thought irritably. Why had she shot those soldiers? It was such a stupid, impulsive thing to do. Unless she wanted to get him killed, which he supposed he couldn’t really rule out as an option. But it didn’t make sense, as she’d had plenty of better opportunities that wouldn’t endanger her in the process. Maybe she just had a vendetta against armed toughs due to her particular…background.

He sprinted down a side hallway, ignoring the stairs for now. They wouldn’t want to keep such a lowly prisoner in the palace itself, so she was probably in one of the auxiliary buildings used for storage and laundry and what-not.

He soon discovered he was going the wrong direction. After a brief sprint, he reached a single large doorway that clearly led to a kitchen. He didn’t even check inside. Instead, he spun on his heel, nearly slipping on the slick marble floor, and sprinted back the other direction. He didn’t want to get caught in this hallway if a soldier came from the other direction.

He burst out into the open chamber, blinking against the bright lights reflecting off mirrors and chandeliers. He started to make for the other side of the room where he could see another hallway. However, three soldiers stepped out of that hallway, swords drawn. They shouted when they saw him. He cursed, skidding to a stop and turning.

The only other open hallway was to his left, right next to the stairs. He dashed for it. He could hear the sound of the clattering footsteps behind him. The men were still shouting at him, but he had no idea what they were saying.

He passed two doorways without even turning his head. At this point, he didn’t have time to look for Narissa. He needed to focus on staying alive long enough to get the soldiers off his trail.

He reached an intersection and turned right without hesitation. He could see several more rooms ahead, followed by a dead end. His heart sank. He would have to pick a room at random and hope it had another exit.

Something grabbed his arm. He spun instinctively, knife poised to strike. He froze when he realized that it wasn’t a soldier who had ahold of him, but a young woman. He frowned and then gaped as the girl looked up, deep brown eyes wide and frightened.

“Beali?” he exclaimed.

She put a finger to her lips, then tugged him to the side. He followed her, bewildered. She pulled him into one of the rooms and slid the door shut before beckoning him to follow. She moved with quick, agitated motions, hands trembling faintly.

Joree noticed immediately that this room had no other exits. His heart sank.

Right up until Beali slid a section of the wall to the side, revealing a dark, thin passageway.

“Servants’ tunnels,” Beali whispered. “They aren’t well known, but they aren’t exactly secret either. So we’ll have to move quickly.”

***

Narissa paced nervously, wringing her hands. She felt terrible, putting the girl in danger like this. But if Joree really was here…

She jumped as the door swung open. Then she cried out in a mixture of relief, joy, and anguish. It was him, her son. He was okay.

He rushed to her and grabbed her in a tight embrace. “Mom,” he whispered. “Oh, thank the Halls.”

She clung to him as well, shaking. When had she started crying?

“Thank you, Beali,” she whispered, looking over Joree’s shoulder to see the tense girl.

“You need to leave now,” Beali said. “If they find you, they will kill you.”

Narissa pulled away from Joree. Beali was right.

“Let’s go,” Joree said, grabbing her hand.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” Narissa said. “It isn’t safe here for you.”

He snorted, tugging her along as they followed Beali. “It’s not safe for anyone.”

Narissa bit her lip. That was true, but it was worse for him. She couldn’t find the words to explain it.

Suddenly, a pain like needles cut into her mind. She screamed and stumbled. At the same moment, Beali let out a gasp and put out a hand to the wall, steadying herself. Joree stopped, looking concerned.

“What is it, Mom? Are you alright?” His voice sounded distant.

“Mind…strike…” she muttered. She vaguely felt his grip tighten on her hand.

“Keep walking,” he insisted. But the needles continued, and his words were getting harder to focus on. Distantly, she thought she heard Beali begin to cry. Or maybe it was her own voice.

***

Joree let go of his mother’s hand and gently lowered her to the floor as she slumped over. He could hear the approaching soldiers now. They had used Will to slow the escapees down long enough to catch up and use their gleaming blades. Kritons weren’t known for their mind-strikes, but they were renowned for their prowess in physical combat.

Joree looked up towards the group of four soldiers, feeling desperate and helpless. As usual, their Will had no effect on him. But as he focused, he realized he could sense it, just as he had back in the woods with Aniah. It seemed to slide off him like he was greased, flowing around him and swirling in the air. Palpable power radiated around him, but couldn’t touch him.

But those blades-those blades could certainly touch him. He stood, drawing his knife. It felt pitiful in his hands. He wouldn’t be able to defeat one of these soldiers with his puny blade, let alone four.

But maybe he could distract them long enough for his mother and Beali to escape.

“As soon as you can,” he whispered, hoping his mother could hear, “take the girl and run. I’ll…catch up.” He added that last part just to ease her mind. He seriously doubted he would be able to catch up after being chopped into bite-sized morsels.

The Will still flowed around him, skimming his skin like oil on water. Like that one time before, he almost felt like he could touch it.

His hand rose before he consciously commanded it to do so. Something was there, in the air all around him.

He hesitated. Was he losing his mind? He had nearly convinced himself that the strange, singular occurrence with Aniah and the Kritons had been some sort of a fluke mixed with stress and exhaustion. But at this point, did it really matter? He was about to get run through with a very sharp piece of metal. May as well explore all his options before it came to that.

He let the Will run into his hand, and he sensed it change. It shifted, losing its deadly intent and settling into his skin like a purring feline predator. But it wasn’t stable. No, it wanted to move, to pounce. It sensed blood in the air.

Joree released it forward. Almost instantaneously, one of the soldiers screamed and collapsed, holding his thigh. The fabric of his pants was scorched and smoking, and he clutched at it, howling in pure agony. His companions paused, bewildered. The stream of Will dampened as their focus was drawn away.

Then another one of the soldiers cried out, throwing a hand to his head. Joree frowned. He hadn’t done anthing this time.

He glanced over his shoulder to see his mom rising unsteadily to her knees, a look of concentration on her face. He could suddenly sense Will rising from her as well, much stronger than that of the Kritons.

The two unharmed soldiers seemed torn between advancing and helping their fallen friends. Joree took advantage of the hesitation, hoisting his mother to her feet and shoving her down the hallway after Beali, who had shakily regained her footing.

“Go!” he yelled. He felt more Will coming from behind him as the guards tried to slow their retreat. He spun, allowing more energy to soak into his skin, and then released it back in a single, powerful burst. Another guard was knocked backwards several paces, landing on his back with a loud crack. The final guard started babbling, eyes wide.

Joree ran after his mother.

Beali led them through another servant tunnel. The walls were so close together Joree had to turn sideways and shuffle. It was dark, and the air smelled old and stale. They seemed to move through an endless maze of twists and turns. Joree started to feel disoriented.

Finally, blessedly, Beali opened another section of wall and rushed out. Joree let out a long, relieved sigh when he saw sunlight streaming in past her.

Before remembering that they were still being chased by dozens of Kriton soldiers. Perhaps he should hold off on the celebration.

They emerged behind the main palace structure. Here, a half dozen smaller buildings were connected by stone tunnels. Joree saw no one, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t last long. In moments, Kriton soldiers would be flooding around the palace, setting up a perimeter to block their escape.

Joree frowned, considering. He didn’t have much experience with hostile takeover or recovery of prisoners, but he was fairly certain that if you were trying to keep someone in, the first thing you did was set up a perimeter. So where were the soldiers?

Don’t look for shells in your egghash casserole. It was a saying his mom often repeated. Egghash casserole was a pauper dish often shared among the less fortunate members of society. Whenever someone had a tiny bit to spare, they would make up a casserole of eggs and roots and whatever spices were on hand to give to someone who hadn’t eaten in a while. Unfortunately, the cheapest source of eggs came from the tiny hicker birds, and their shells were so brittle that often it was impossible to keep all the crunchy bits out of the food. Essentially, the saying meant don’t complain about a gift, just accept it and move on.

So, Joree grabbed his mother’s hand and started towing her away. Beali followed, face pale and eyes too large. In fact, her cheekbones seemed almost sunken, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Flames, she looked like a hollow shell. Joree had seen enough urchins to know the effects of malnutrition. Anger boiled up inside of him as he realized how deep the Kritons’ mistreatment of the city had been, but he ignored it for now. He couldn’t fight off an entire army of soldiers to free the city on his own. Maybe he could make it back to Highness Arellia and convince her to help. Assuming she didn’t execute him on sight.

“What’s the fastest way out of the city?” Joree asked, glancing over his shoulder at Beali. Her pale skin grew ashen.

“We-we’ll never make it. There are too many soldiers.”

Joree took a deep breath. “Do you have a better idea?”

Her shoulders slouched. “We’re all going to die,” she whispered, hysteria creeping into her voice. “Wilstavar, we’re going to die.”

Joree’s eyebrows shot up at the profane curse. The Ancient One’s name was rarely spoken, and then it was treated with upmost reverence. Using it as an expletive was considered blasphemous.

“Calm, Beali,” Narissa said soothingly. “It will be alright.” She sounded so certain, Joree almost believed her.

And then a dozen soldiers burst around the left side of the palace.

“Oh, gods of Arkadia,” Beali whimpered. “Please let it end quickly.” She squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

“Run!” Joree shouted, shoving his mother towards Beali. “I’ll try to distract them.” The words sounded pitiful when he said them out loud. At most, he’d be able to buy them about ten seconds before he was minced up for stew.

Narissa grabbed his hand in both of hers, her grip tight and fervent. He looked at her, expecting terror. But the look in her eyes was grim resignation, mixed with determination. It baffled him for a moment.

“You can stop them,” Narissa whispered.

Joree blinked once, trying to process her words. “Mom, there are at least ten armed soldiers over there,” he protested.

She nodded, still clutching his hand. “I know. But-I think-well, I think you can stop them.” She sounded relatively certain, although he saw the hesitation in her eyes.

“How?” he asked, incredulous.

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know.” It came out as barely a whisper. “Use…use whatever tools you can.”

He frowned. “That is perfectly clear and not at all cryptic,” he said, perhaps too snappishly.

Her gaze hardened, and she turned to face the approaching soldiers. They were approaching at a brisk march, shouting unintelligible words.

Joree felt something change as his mom stared at the soldiers. Instinctively, he realized she was using Will. Two of the soldiers stumbled, causing the whole formation to momentarily slow, the men yelling at each other angrily. It only took a few seconds for them to realize what was happening, and after a barked order from one of the men in the back, Narissa dropped to her knees with a gasp.

Joree snapped his head up. He could distinctly sense which members of the group were directing their Will at his mom. He growled, surprising himself with the feral noise. Then he reached out and pulled the streams of Will towards him. He didn’t just let it flow into himself this time, he sucked it away from Narissa and into himself. Soon, it felt like a churning, roiling mass under his skin, trying to push its way out of his pores, his eyes, his mouth. With a scream, he threw it away from himself.

A wave of distortion, like the air around hot metal in the sun, rippled outwards from him. It slammed into the line of approaching soldiers. Instead of shoving them backwards, it swept over them and swirled about, causing the air around them to warp and writhe. Men began to scream and collapse. Some started tearing at their armor, only to jerk their hands away and shriek in pain. Joree watched with intense horror as clothing and skin blackened and shriveled. Then, slowly, metal breastplates and helms began to melt.

He stumbled away from the awful sight. His mother was shakily getting to her feet. He shook himself and pulled her up, forcing down the bile that rose to the back of his throat. He could smell the burnt flesh already.

Beali still stood frozen, eyes clenched shut, hands in fists at her sides. Joree grabbed her by the elbow and began to drag her away. She didn’t even resist, just whimpered.

The trio ran, Joree leading them down random streets, past citizens who yelped and scrambled out of their way. Joree was vaguely aware that they were heading eastward. He would have to circle back around to meet the Delani on the south at their prearranged rendezvous spot. Assuming she hadn’t run off or gotten herself captured. He grimaced. No time to worry about that now. He had to-

Something whizzed in front of him, mere paces ahead. He skidded to a stop, turning his head to see the source of the attack.

The Delani stood on a short rooftop to the right, holding her makeshift bow and already drawing another arrow. He followed her gaze, noticing for the first time the pair of soldiers approaching out of an alley from the opposite side. One had already fallen with an arrow through the neck. The next one fell a moment later, pierced through the eye.

The Delani leapt lightly from the rooftop and jogged up to join them. Joree felt like she should at least look self-satisfied. She just looked…the same as always.

“How long have you been following us?” Joree demanded accusingly. Of course she didn’t respond, but he hadn’t expected her to. He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Thanks. Let’s go.”

They ran together now, making for the edge of the city. No one protested as Joree led the way. Neither Narissa nor Beali questioned the sudden arrival of the Delani, although Joree thought he heard his mother gasp softly.

After what seemed like ages, Joree saw the blockade of soldiers. They all faced outward. If Joree could find a way to distract them, just long enough for the women to escape…

His mind was still churning as he gestured them into the shadow of a building. They were still exposed, but none of the soldiers were watching the city.

“I’m going to draw their attention,” Joree whispered. “Once I do, you three need to run. Get away from here. I’ll catch up.”

It was hardly a plan. And it was probably a lie, at least the last part. Joree didn’t really want to think about that.

Narissa grasped his arm. Her eyes were narrowed. He expected her to argue. Instead, she just said, “You’d better catch up, Joree.”

He gaped, but then snapped his jaw closed and nodded once. “Wait until you have an opening,” he whispered.

Then, with no plan at all, he sprinted out into the open. He did the first thing that came to mind, which, granted, wasn’t very bright.

“Help! Help!” he screamed, waving his arms over his head and trying to look panicked. Most of the soldiers turned to look at him, some with alarm, others with lazy irritation or curiosity. One of them snarled something at him in Kriton. He ignored the statement, moving to the far left to draw their vision as far from the hiding place of the three women as possible.

“Quick! They are coming! We’re all in danger!” he screamed. Several soldiers exchanged concerned glances, a few seemed angry. Most scratched their heads or shuffled their feet, clearly bemused. Or perhaps they simply didn’t speak Manicoti.

“Please!” he shouted, stepping forward and grabbing the closest soldier by the elbow in a frantic motion. The man jerked his arm away and raised a booted foot, slamming it towards Joree’s kneecap. He leapt back just in time, the blow barely nicking him. By now, he had everyone’s attention to one degree or another. None of them turned to look as three small figures ducked out from the shadow of a building and crept behind their backs, disappearing down a dirt path.

Joree had to hide a smile. Now, if only he could find a way to get himself out of this mess…

The man he had assaulted stepped forward, swinging a fist at his face. He cursed and ducked, the blow clipping him just above his left temple. He scrambled away, and several of the soldiers jeered and laughed.

“Why not do what you did before?”

The soft, silken voice sent a shiver coursing through Joree’s body. The jeers and taunts from the soldiers cut off abruptly. Suddenly, they all seemed very interested in getting back to their duty, drifting several paces away from Joree and pointedly facing away.

Joree turned slowly to find the source of the voice.

A tall man with loose black clothing and golden shoulder length hair stood with arms clasped behind his back, backlit by the setting sun. His features were abnormal, too sinuous and smooth to be natural. His body seemed to flow from one limb to the next seamlessly.

“That was your doing, the corpses. Why use words now?”

He spoke with an odd cadence, as if choosing his words very deliberately. Joree felt his breath catch in his throat, and he was unable to speak. The man’s expression was neutral, his voice not betraying any hint of emotion, although his questions seemed curious.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joree finally managed.

The man placed one finger to his lips. Joree had no idea what that was supposed to mean, as his face didn’t seem puzzled or musing. “Humans are so…strange.” He lifted a hand, and with a brilliant flash of pain, Joree’s world disappeared.