Chapter 1
Luella knew one of her captors. Not personally, but she saw the family resemblance. He had black hair, curly, and fine features. His eyes flashed that signature gold. She knew he must be Lothar Shadoweaver.
She’d heard the tale, and knew he was working with The Company of the Maze. Both him, and his partner were clad in the uniform dark grey cloaks. The back of which displayed a circular maze pattern. The Mark of the Maze that had become so closely associated with the Lost King.
She wanted to run, but couldn’t. She was tethered to the other, unknown captor, by a black rope cord, which also tied her wrists together at her front. Besides, even if she could run, the forest was dark. The only illumination came from a blue orb which drifted near the unknown man. The rope scratched her skin raw.
The unknown, man was tall, and broad. Under his cloak, he wore a heavy set of armor. He flaunted a large sword resting on his shoulder. “She is so slow, I’m going to kill myself,” he said.
Luella bit back an instinctive apology. It distracted her. She tripped over a root, barefoot, and stumbled. Blood rushed into her cheeks.
The unknown man turned around. “Pathetic.” He sneered down at her. “Is this the standard maintained by The Caladrius?” He took a couple steps towards her. She kept her composure, and her eyes to the ground. There wasn’t anything she could do. She’d already lost. He bent, picked her up, and threw her over his shoulder. She squeaked in surprise. His grip on her was hard. He said, “This is what they mean when they talk about the weakest link.”
A few moments of silence passed. The unknown man smelled like metal, and smoke. Late autumn air bit into Luella’s face, and through her sleeves. She was still dressed in her white nightgown. Her hair was undone.
She figured it was worth a try. “W-where are you taking me?”
The unknown man said, “None of your business, girl.”
“Why did you kidnap me?”
“Not telling,” he said with a smile, “Got any more questions for me?”
“What’s your name?”
He laughed, “Cecil of the Blue Flame. I’m sure you’ve heard the tales.”
“I haven’t,” she said. It was a half-truth.
“I kind of set that one up for you, huh? You know, I never understood why women become mercenaries. If I was a woman, I’d get men to give me money for nothing, and stare at myself naked most of the time.”
Lothar spoke. His voice was slow, gravelly. He said, “You think you’d be able to resist the blade if you were a woman?”
Cecil laughed. “Yeah, you’ve got a point. Might even be worse.” He joustled Louella on his shoulder. His fingers dug in harder. “You got a violent side? Like to get a little rough?”
“I do what I have to,” Luella said.
“Oh, don’t we all,” he said.
“I can help protect those weaker than myself,” she said.
He said, “I hate when people talk like that, as if it were a virtue. Makes my skin crawl.”
Her brow furrowed. “Wouldn’t you want someone to protect you, if you were weak?”
“If I were weak, I’d be dead,” he said, “That would be the natural order of things.”
“I’m not dead,” she said.
He just laughed.
Her heartbeat picked up. Of course. They needed her alive. Once, when she was younger, she’d been kidnapped by some rogues for ransom. But she’d been disowned since then. That was no longer a threat. The only reason she could think, for the capture, was for the purpose of bait. It was the only thing that made sense. Wulfhelm wouldn’t let them have her. He’d come after her. Not because she was special to him in particular, but because that was how he was with his people. She loved him for it. She didn’t want him, or anyone else, to get hurt for it, or killed. She couldn’t stomach it.
He’d given her a chance, and now she’d caused him this.
There was no doubt there would be fractured support for any rescue effort. Maybe that was the point.
She’d rather be dead.
She kicked her legs, kneeing Cecil in his armoured ribs.
Cecil threw her to the ground, “What’s the point of that?” He sounded taken aback. He lifted his sword.
Luella looked up at the clouded sky.
“That won’t be necessary,” Lothar said. Luella met his gaze.
Her world shifted and spun. She was back home in the courtyard of her youth. Roses bloomed vibrantly. Ivy snaked and twisted up the high stone walls. In the centre, a large tiered fountain ran clear water that caught moonlight. She looked at the night sky. It was brilliant with stars. She collapsed to sit on the cool stone edge of the fountain. It felt like a wound reopening in her heart. It took her breath.
There was a lack of definition to the edges of things, she noticed. She prodded around the illusion with her understanding of the Arts. She could break it, if she could get a handle on it. However, it responded to her examination, and adjusted easily, concealing itself. It was a perfect and pragmatic cast. Lothar was a genius, after all. That’s what she heard. She wasn’t a match, for any of it.
The false world weighed on like a dream. She just couldn’t forget it was an illusion. She could at least do that. She kept her eyes trained on the blurry edges. It felt like fighting sleep.
In the quiet moments, her mind wandered to thoughts of Wulfhelm, and his dark eyes, as it so often did. She should’ve fought harder. Maybe if she’d trained more. Maybe it would’ve gone better. Maybe she could have escaped, or caught attention. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
It was foolish to think like that, and she knew it. She could hear him tell her so, in his low tone. She could almost feel his reassuring hand on her shoulder. She closed her eyes.
