A Citadel of Captives Read online

  “Did you see something?” Shayla asked.

  “Not much, other than some animals. But I caught a whiff of blood. Maybe there are some traps nearby,” I replied. “Remember what Vikkal, the Grand Priest, said earlier?”

  Draven nodded. “Bogdana likes her privacy a little too much.”

  “Sorry, I don’t care much about that right now,” Shayla said, narrowing her eyes as she looked around, as if scanning the entire area. “I think we can keep moving forward, for now. We just need to watch our step, I suppose.”

  Draven moved forward, taking the lead. He fumbled through one of his leather satchels, taking out a handful of red dust. He whispered a Druid spell into it, then blew it outward. The dust spread out in a red cloud, lingering in the air for a while.

  “Give it a moment,” he said.

  The cloud broke down into millions of tiny red particles, which shot between the trees and attached themselves to the ground, in the shape of a line—connecting two large trees on both sides of our narrow forest path. A split second later, a net popped out from the layer of fallen leaves ahead, pulled up by an arched branch above.

  Draven snapped his fingers, and a thin rope came up from beneath the red dust, stretching between the trees. It was a trap of sorts, with basic mechanisms and stone weights mounted behind the two trees. Once the rope was triggered and stretched, it released the net, which had been designed to capture whoever would’ve set foot on the hidden rope. Taeral’s guards inspected everything, then gave Draven an appreciative nod.

  “That’s a cool trick,” I said. “Think you can do it again?”

  “Yes, but I still think we need to watch where we’re going. I don’t have enough of this dust to cover the entire trail,” he replied. “It just looked like a good place to put a trap, to be honest.”

  “Good instinct,” one of the guards murmured. That was the first time I’d heard one of them speak.

  We were careful as we advanced through the forest. Draven was able to spot three more traps before we saw the house in a distant clearing. The last trap was downright creepy, consisting of a large spike-covered log, set to come down and hit us as soon as we triggered the thin string tied about four inches above ground level.

  “I wonder which of these made Vikkal turn back,” Taeral said, mildly amused.

  “Given that he’s still alive and not mangled, my guess is one way back there,” I replied, pointing a thumb over my shoulder. “I think it’s safe to assume Bogdana never got that fresh fruit.”

  “This is quite the effort to keep people away, though,” Draven mumbled, frowning. “Too much effort, if you ask me. Unless she’s afraid or has something to hide. In which case, all of this seems justified.”

  Nevertheless, we persisted and kept going. The closer we got, the better we could see the small house and the sunny clearing. It was a simple and modest residence, but it was clean and surrounded by hundreds of blossoming plants in pots. It was definitely the work of a woman who took great pride in her home.

  The house itself was made of wood, with smoky glass windows and a thatched roof. The porch was narrow, but it still managed to hold a wicker rocking chair and a dozen more flowerpots. A woolen shawl had been left on the back of the rocking chair.

  Just as we were about to step into the clearing, a curtain of fire rose out of nowhere, forcing us to come to a sudden and breathless halt. It spread out and surrounded us, blocking us from going anywhere. It blazed with great anger, the flames almost licking at my clothes and hair.

  “Holy crap!” Shayla croaked.

  Taeral and his guards tried to use their own fires to push back, but it didn’t work. The blaze only moved closer, threatening to consume us all.

  A voice boomed around us. “You are trespassing! State your purpose or die!”

  “Whoa,” Taeral murmured, then pursed his lips and vanished into thin air.

  His guards were baffled, as were the rest of us.

  “Oh, come on!” I groaned. “First sign of danger and he poofs out of here? Not cool!” I added, then looked at Shayla. “Speaking of which?”

  The fire burned brighter as it closed in on us. Shayla grabbed Draven and me by the hand. I managed to link hands with Taeral’s guards. Shayla teleported us out of there just as the flames were about to swallow us whole.

  My heart skipped a beat when I found myself standing on the porch of what was probably Bogdana’s house.

  “Thank you, Shayla,” Draven said.

  She offered a shrug in response. “She definitely has the makings of a psychopath. But she’s no match for a pissed off witch like me.”

  A moan echoed from inside the house, putting us all on edge again. Draven opened the door and walked in with a sense of urgency, while Shayla, the guards, and I followed. I was ready to draw my sword if necessary, though we had come in peace. However, the old fae’s traps had already almost killed us more than once, so I was fully entitled to an armed retaliation.

  Once we reached the living room, however, we instantly relaxed. The guards even breathed a sigh of relief.

  Bogdana was pinned down in a chair by Taeral, who had a slim but sharp sword just millimeters away from her jugular. The fae looked old, in a literal sense, which was rather strange and unnatural for her species. I gave Taeral a brief smile.

  “I thought you ran out on us,” I said.

  He smirked in response. “Really? You think an old fae’s flames would scare me away? You underestimate me, incubus.”

  “Who… Who are you people?” Bogdana yelped, her amber eyes nearly popping out of their orbits. She was terrified and unable to move, given that Taeral’s blade could easily slit her throat in one swift move if she so much as sneezed. “How did you get past my—”

  “Your amateurish traps?” Taeral asked. “I’m your prince. Let’s start with that.”

  Bogdana was stunned. And no wonder. She hadn’t expected to see three complete strangers, plus a prince and a bunch of guards in her house, after who knows how many years. She’d gone to great lengths to stay hidden, after all. That, too, had gone up in metaphorical flames.

  Draven

  “We need to talk,” I said to Bogdana.

  I couldn’t help but stare at her appearance. The fae didn’t normally age like she had—her skin was pale and saggy, with expression lines and deep wrinkles obscuring her facial features. Her amber eyes looked tired, her long hair white and scarce, pulled up into a loose bun. Her back was hunched, her limbs were slender and bony, and there were brownish spots on the backs of her hands. She reminded me of old humans from Earth, not the fae.

  It wasn’t in her species’ biological nature to show an advanced age. Some fae lived well past five thousand years and still looked as young and as spry as they had in their twenties. I wondered if it had something to do with the fact that Bogdana was much older than that. Maybe the fae did age physically, too, only no one had seen them.

  “You… You’re the crown prince,” Bogdana managed, staring at Taeral. “I… I am so sorry, Your Highness. I had no idea you were coming. I didn’t think you’d come. Who the hell would venture all this way to see me?”

  Taeral put his sword away, then exhaled.

  “Yeah, well, we didn’t think we’d have to come all the way here to find you,” Taeral replied, crossing his arms. “Sorry to barge in like that, by the way, but you were about to cremate my perfectly living friends.”

  Bogdana then looked at us, visibly remorseful. “I am sorry,” she said. “I don’t like people poking their noses around here. I didn’t know you were in the presence of the crown prince.”

  “Either way, that is no way to greet a stranger, Bogdana,” I retorted.

  The old fae motioned for us to sit down, while she got up and brought a water pitcher and clean glasses on a tray from the open-plan kitchen. The interior was as simple and as quaint as the exterior, with more potted flowers. She clearly had a thing for flowers.

  Bogdana placed the tray on the table with tremb
ling hands, then resumed her seat and proceeded to measure each of us from head to toe.

  “With all due respect, I recognize His Highness and the royal guards now, but you? Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m Draven, Master Druid of Calliope,” I replied.

  “Ah, an Eritopian,” she said, then smiled. “I’ve heard great news from there. Congratulations on regaining your freedom, Master Druid.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured, then nodded at my two trusted companions. “These are Shayla, a white witch of The Shade, and Bijarki, my close friend and confidant. We represent GASP on this visit. I presume you’ve heard of them?”

  Bogdana nodded slowly. “The supernatural alliance. Yes, I’ve heard a few things. Tell me, why are you here?”

  I braced myself for what came next. I had to give Bogdana the full story, from our initial studies of Strava, prior to building the resort, all the way to the four Perfects we’d managed to recover from the fleet attack. Throughout my account, Bogdana listened intently. There wasn’t a single change in her facial expression, and that made me wonder. There was no shock or surprise, no awe or curiosity, no dread or irritation.

  I figured maybe she’d seen a lot worse during her time in this world.

  Once I was done, however, she let out a long and tired sigh, so heavy and intense that it made me sigh, too. She leaned against the back of her chair, pursing her lips.

  “You people are in so much trouble,” she said. “Well, we’re all in a heap of trouble, for that matter. This concerns us all. Every planet, every star, and every wandering rock in this endless universe.”

  I took out the scrolls I’d brought with me from Calliope and handed them over to her. “They’re written in a dead language, but I recognized your name and that of the Draenir. They were stored in our Druid Archives. What can you tell us about these scrolls?”

  She unraveled them and quickly studied the pages, occasionally smiling. “These are very old, Master Druid,” she replied. “I’ve made many trips to Strava and that entire solar system. Many after these scrolls were written. But they all pretty much say the same thing. They’re travel journals.”

  “Yours?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No. A young Druid I used to travel with. A good friend of mine, named Arial. His was the last generation to use the old Druid language,” she said. “The scrolls describe our journeys and contact with the Draenir, and, believe me, they were good people. Peaceful and educated, with scientific minds and a childlike curiosity. Of course, these are just the early accounts. I kept going back to Strava, long after that Druid passed. I’ve outlived all the explorers I’ve traveled with.”

  Shayla raised our most burning question. “Do you know anything about Ta’Zan and the Draenir’s genetic experiments?”

  “I do, yes,” Bogdana replied. “I met Mudak Marduk before he succeeded in creating Ta’Zan. He’d been having trouble with the embryo’s development at the time.”

  “Clearly something worked because the bastard is alive and kicking,” Bijarki muttered, nervously scratching the back of his head.

  “But what you’ve described happening there now is nothing like what the Draenir did,” Bogdana said. “They would never create these so-called Perfects to invade the universe. It was against their scientific ethos. Sure, they wanted to design a superior being, but it was never toward an expansive mission. Never.”

  “Well, apparently the Draenir went extinct after a plague. It’s why Ta’Zan put himself and his creations in stasis,” I replied.

  “I find it difficult to believe the Draenir would be unable to tackle a plague.” Bogdana sighed. “They had thousands of virus strains in storage, occasionally crossing them and experimenting until they found a cure. They always found a cure. Always.”

  My brows furrowed. “So, what, you think it wasn’t a plague that killed them?” I asked.

  “Maybe that’s what the… locals know,” Bogdana said. “But I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything with certainty unless I get access to some tissue samples and so on. Anyway,” she added, changing the subject. “That’s not the most important issue here. I kept in touch with Mudak after Ta’Zan was born, until he stopped writing, anyway. Ta’Zan was a prodigy from the moment he learned to speak. A brilliant creature. An astonishing genius. He understood the Draenir genome when he was only five years old. You must understand, that made Ta’Zan into a very lonely creature. Shortly before Mudak stopped writing, he confessed that he was worried about Ta’Zan and his inability to make any friends. There was no one else like him, and the Draenir thought of him as a freak. Ta’Zan’s unethical genetic experiments didn’t help him.”

  “Unethical?” I asked.

  “Some Draenir died in the process,” Bogdana replied.

  “You could’ve led with that. I don’t think it was Ta’Zan’s social awkwardness that got him and Mudak in hot water,” Taeral said.

  That alone was enough to shed an interesting light on this Ta’Zan, an enemy we knew little about. His loneliness actually explained his decision to create other hybrids, too.

  “So, the Faulties, the Perfects… they’re all Ta’Zan’s way of combatting loneliness?” Shayla concluded, somewhat irritated.

  “It could be,” Bogdana replied. “I never met him personally, but he seemed intelligent and… well, good. But I suppose something happened along the way. Perhaps that plague you spoke of killed Mudak and pushed Ta’Zan into further isolation, prompting him to create new companions for himself.”

  “You don’t know anything about the Perfects or how they could’ve been made, huh?” Bijarki asked Bogdana.

  She shook her head again. “No. But you people are going to need all the help you can get. I have information about the Draenir and Ta’Zan. I know stories, and I remember things. I can be of use to you.”

  I was slightly confused. “What are you trying to say?”

  Bogdana pushed herself from her chair, her knees shaky as she stood up. Once she was stable, she put her hands on her hips and gave me a bold smile. “I want to come back into the fold,” she said. “If Ta’Zan is hellbent on universe domination, I’m confident I can assist in putting him back in his place. You need me.”

  “Yeah, you see, you say that, but what’s your angle here?” Taeral said. The young prince didn’t bother to hide his suspicions regarding the old fae.

  “Your Highness, I am getting bored here,” Bogdana replied. “I need some action. And I know more about Strava than any of you and your people in GASP,” she said, then looked at me. “If you want to infiltrate Strava undetected, I know how to get you there.”

  I thought about it for a moment. I didn’t see a downside in any of this. She was old, sure, but she was still a powerful and capable fire fae, with extensive knowledge of Strava and its extinct Draenir. If anyone could shed more light on that world, it was her. But Taeral had a point, too. She had to be getting something out of this, and I doubted it was the rush of adrenaline from “getting back into the fold.”

  “All right, then,” I conceded. “Tell us everything you know, and I will take you with us. My word is my bond.”

  Bogdana gave me a sly grin, the kind that said I was a little kid, dealing with an old fox. “Master Druid, that’s not how this works. I will show you how to infiltrate Strava while I’m on board whatever mode of transportation you choose to use. As soon as my feet touch Strava’s ground, and only after I assess the entire situation, I will tell you everything I know.”

  “Wow, you’re really itching to get your boots back on the ground, huh?” Taeral mumbled.

  Bogdana shrugged. “What can I say? I may be old, but my soul is still young. So, Master Druid,” she said, looking at me, “what’ll it be? Yay or nay?”

  The answer was pretty obvious, even though I was giving it with half a heart. Bogdana was coming with us, mainly because we didn’t have much choice, but also because her knowledge of that world could help us survive for long enough to get our people out of the
re.

  Derek, Sofia, and their group depended on us, and so did the dozens of our fighters that Ta’Zan had taken into captivity. Ben and Rose’s crew needed us to pull through, too. On top of that, we really needed to figure out a way to stop Ta’Zan from sending his Perfects into space.

  Pressed for time and desperate for a solution to avoid a most literal end of the world, I decided to allow Bogdana to join us. The fate of our loved ones depended on every decision we made, going forward.

  This had to be a good one. It had to.

  * * *

  Ready for the next part of the Shadians’ story?

  Dear Shaddict,

  Thank you for reading A Citadel of Captives!

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