Obsidian Ridge

Chapter Sixteen

Genevie walked across the drawbridge and through the portcullis into Klarsamryn. She waved to the guards as she passed, trying to smile. It made her nervous to see so many armed men at the gate. She couldn't remember the last time there were so many Magistrates in one place.

Crossing through the great hall, she hurried her way through the palace's stone hallways to the princess's chamber. Retrieving her key from the pocket of her robe, she slipped it into the lock and let herself in.

The room was mostly dark, but her half-elf eyes could see clearly. Obviously, no one had been looking after the princess's chamber. Chairs were out of place. The linens on the bed were unmade. And the doors of the wardrobe were wide open. Even the lid of the wooden chest where they kept. the winter blankets was askew. It appeared as if someone has ransacked the place, looking for something.

This just wouldn't do. Weaving her way through the disheveled furniture, Genevie went to the window and threw wide the drapes, letting in the late afternoon light.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do," growled a voice from behind her.

Turning around, Genevie dropped to one knee. "My king," she said, following it up with an elaborate bow.

A single hand wrapped around her left arm and dragged her to her feet. Genevie tried to pull herself from the soldier's grasp, but the Magistrate's powerful hand held her tight.

Genevie twisted in pain. "My lord, make him stop. He's… he's hurting me."

"Oh," said the king, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes growing dark. "These men haven't even begun to hurt you."

The Magistrate dragged Genevie out of the princess's chambers. Just outside the door stood six armed guards and a court wizard, all of whom drew their weapons and fell into step behind Genevie as she was dragged away. Stopping at the end of the hall, the king himself kicked open another door and pointed.

"In there," he ordered.

The Magistrate not-so-gently threw the handmaiden into the room, following behind. The king entered as well.

Genevie crashed into a set of wooden shelves against the far wall and collapsed to the floor. She had been in this room before. Little more than a closet, this was where the servants and staff who took care of this floor kept their buckets and mops. There were no windows here-no light and no way out except through the open door into the hallway-both of which were blocked by the king and the Magistrate.

Genevie pulled her legs into her body and covered her head with her hands. "Please, my lord, don't hurt me. I-"

"Where have you been, Genevie?" asked the king. He was pacing back and forth between the walls of the tiny room. "We've been looking all over for you."

"I–I-I-" Genevie stuttered. Her whole body was shaking, and she was gasping for air between giant sobs.

"Out with it, Genevie," said the king. "You go missing on the same day my daughter disappears. Were you with her when she was taken?"

Genevie shook her head, unable to get out any words.

"Then where were you?" The king bent down, placing his huge face in front of hers. "Well?"

Genevie kept quiet, just lying on the ground, her arms, curled around her body as tightly as she could draw them.

"Answer me!" shouted the king. He grabbed her by the front of her robes, lifting her into the air. "You were my daughter's closest confidant, and you sold her out, didn't you? You and Whitman, you did this together. You were the only other person who could have known where she was going to be. You knew about her late nights. You knew when she came and left the palace. And you sold her out!"

"No! No, it's nothing like that. I would never hurt the princess. Never." Genevie spat out the words in desperation, trying to get free.

The king slapped her across the face with the-back of his hand. "Then Whitman comes back with an offer from the Matron. And you conveniently show up." He let her go, dropping the half-elf to the floor.

Genevie scampered into the corner, curling herself up into a ball.

"On the same day, no less." Korox continued his pacing. "You disappear without a trace. No word from you. Nothing for three full days. In the meantime, the entire kingdom is looking for you and the princess. This is more than a little suspicious."

"I was… I was… with my grandson. He… he's sick. And… and he needs medicine, and I couldn't-"

Korox interrupted her. "You know what I think, Genevie? I think you're lying. I think you helped Whitman concoct this whole plan, and that you were in on it from the beginning."

The king gabbed a wooden bucket from one of the shelves and slammed it to the ground. It shattered as it hit the stone floor, pieces ricocheting all over the closet. Genevie tried to pull herself up even tighter into the corner, tucking her head into her lap and covering herself with her arms.

"You know what else I think?" shouted the king. "I think you might actually be the Matron. I think all of this is some sort of plot to take over my kingdom. And I think that you just might try to hurt my daughter if it meant you could seize control of Erlkazar."

From out in the hall came a great commotion. People were running back and forth, and there were shouts.

The king turned his attention away from Genevie. "What's going on out there?"

He stepped away, and the half-elf could see one of the soldiers at the door shrug. Then someone arrived, shouting for the king.

"King Korox! My lord! You must come quick. Another obelisk has arrived."

Genevie couldn't see the messenger, but she was thankful for the reprieve.

"Watch her!" ordered the king, his meaty fist poking in from out in the hall, one of his sausage-like fingers pointing down at her. "Don't close the door. Don't take your eyes off of her. Ward the room against any of her magic, and if she tries to escape, cut her arms and legs off. I need her head still attached, so she can answer questions, but the other limbs are expendable."

King Korox didn't know what to think.

He marched down the hallway to the great hall.

None of this made any sense. Where had Genevie been? A sick grandson as an explanation? She disappears as the princess is kidnapped, and her excuse is that her grandson is sick? Perhaps Korox's instincts were right. If she was conspiring with Whitman, and her returning now, of all times, was all part of their plan, then they had miscalculated. If she was the Matron, it would explain how Mariko was seemingly so easily captured. But why would Genevie come back here? She had what she wanted. Did she get nervous when she didn't hear from Whitman? That wouldn't make any sense either. Why risk coming into the palace without guards or mages? Wouldn't she want to negotiate the terms of her offer to help? Was she here to kill the king? The Claw had overheard the Tasca brothers talking about a plot on his life, and so far they hadn't seen any attempt. Then how did Mariko's disappearance factor into all of this?

There were just too many questions and not enough answers.

The messenger led him to the front gate, where a group of people was once again gathered.

"Make way for the king!" shouted the messenger.

Storming out onto the drawbridge, Korox tried to pull himself together. Twice in one day he'd raised his hand against people whom only a few days before he had considered trusted allies. His confidence in the people around him was eroding quickly, and he was starting to act like a desperate man-not a commanding, confident king.

Stepping out onto the wooden slats, King Korox looked up once again at a huge obsidian obelisk.

One of the soldiers standing by greeted him. "King Korox," he said, bowing. "Unlike the last one, this stone appeared right in front of our eyes."

The king nodded, approaching it and placing his hand on its side. The jet black stone was slick and warm to the touch. Two words were chiseled onto the face of the stone.

Moonrise tonight.

"The first message said four days," whispered the king. "It's only been three."

The crowd behind him let out a collective gasp, and several people pointed off to the east, toward Shalane Lake. The king turned too, watching in horror as the Obsidian Ridge moved. It swept past the docks, gliding to a stop over the fields at the low point of the valley, not far from where it had first appeared. The arched portals on its sides slid open, and from them, the black beasts began to pour out.

The creatures fell from the sides of the floating citadel. They dropped to the ground, rolling then unfurling, collecting in the shadow of the Obsidian Ridge.