Chapter Thirty One: Pray

Mahalis always hated this place.

The Red Citadel. The very air here seemed to be filled with dread and fear, poisonous to those who who breathed it in. The Elven Prince could feel it at the back of his neck like a dragons breath, the scent sickly and grim. Filled with the pleas of the desperate and depraved. He felt it cling to his skin under his armour, making him want to run to the nearest bathhouse and scrub it all off.

And this was just as they entered the main gate.

The others didn't seem to be having too much of a problem with it. In fact, they looked down right happy that they had made it to civilisation.

The way from Ellai had been troublesome to say the least. Crossing the terrain was never easy and the wounds that Lor and Dran had sustained were rather difficult to fully heal. The two tried to hide it but the trauma they had endured at the hands of the man in the King's Mask made them act differently around the others. While the physical wounds were gone the feeling of being so soundly defeated by one man when they had been victors their whole lives was hard for them to accept. Kara seemed to be fine, her face was in it's usual impassive expression. She hid everything from the world and kept the pain on the inside, even as she led them all here, through trial and tribulation both.

The princess in question was chatting with Hilin and a guard who stood by the gate, the three talking in hushed tones. Mahalis looked into Kara's face for a mere second before he felt his cheeks begin to heat up and he looked away, dismayed with how pathetic he must look to her. They had never said it but he knew the others thought of him as a coward. He had run away in the face of the masked man, so filled with terror that he couldn't do anything but try to hide it by arguing with Lor.

It was the damn sword's fault! Fucking Angelis had gone against his wishes. He can still feel the waves of absolute fear as the sword urged him, no, begged him, to run away. And he had done as commanded, like a good little boy.

Mahalis gritted his teeth at the thought of The Angelis and his hand closed around the open air at his side, where the blade usually sat.

It was gone, it had disappeared less than two days ago and that could only mean one thing. His mother had called it back. Did he do something wrong? Did she know that he couldn't control the blade and had called it back because she thought him unworthy of the honour of wielding it? He knew that couldn't be the case. His mother was powerful but not omniscient, she couldn't have known that man would have appeared, seemingly capable of controlling Xolumbrandir. Still, the thoughts rattled around inside his head regardless, unwilling to go away.

He shook his head in a vain attempt to banish the dread he felt and instead turned to examine his surroundings.

The paupers district of the Red Citadel was aptly named. Most of the people here didn't even work because of inability or disability, and a lot of them were descendants of the refugee's that had began to appear in droves at the end of the war with the Church.

There were many scattered around Vita, whole settlements were sometimes made up of them, but this was perhaps the poorest conditions he had ever seen. In Callai they were on the outskirts so he never really had to worry about them much. One of the perks of being a royal he supposed.

The people here all wore drab and simple clothing, nothing remotely extravagant, and many didn't even wear shoes. They shuffled along with pessimistic steps, Mahalis noticed that many of them made a point of avoiding eye contact, perhaps fearing the consequences of annoying one of the high born. An unfortunate but common occurrence in some of the larger cities. Noble teen's liked to bully those who have had lesser luck in life, somehow believing themselves to be superior. Marwenna had taught Mahalis at a young age that that kind of thinking was dangerous. The Rebel King himself was an orphan and fended for himself on the streets of Callai before Marwen found him. Mahalis found himself smiling as he thought of the story his mother often told him before bed. It was deeply engrained in him and was always one of his favourites growing up. His mother would laugh often while telling the tale of the young boy who came to live in a palace, only to one day grow up to be the most powerful mage in Vita.

The many dilapidated shacks that surrounded him looked like they would barely survive the next rain fall, never mind a stiff wind, and the road was merely firm dirt, although in some places it seemed like mud. He realised this was due to sewage and he couldn't help but wrinkle his nose as the source of the stench that permeated this place made itself known to him.

As he examined the paupers district he noticed a group of children near the entrance to an alleyway just off to his right side. They were dirty and covered with grime, but their eyes shone bright as they tried to subtly steal glances of the heavily armoured and finely garbed group of warriors.

When they realised that Mahalis was staring they all stopped like rabbits caught in a trap and a tinge of fear entered into their vision before they began to mutter amongst themselves.

After a few moments, the group began to push one of the boys out and further onto the street. The boy had black hair and his panicked expression almost made Mahalis burst out laughing. He remembered what he was like at that age, curious of everything and everyone that seemed new to him. The Elven Prince levelled a smile at the young boy who, upon seeing it, looked slightly reassured and approached cautiously, his friends standing behind looking at the boy with awe for his courage.

The boy stopped several feet away and drew in a deep breath, throwing a glance back at his friends as he did so.

“Ex- excuse me, sir but... me mates and I was wonderin... are you Knight's of The Rebel Court like The Queen? We' s heard the stories, can you all really use magic?” The boys words were stunted and hesitant, he looked like he was half expecting to be hit for speaking out of turn.

Mahalis smiled at the young man “No, I'm not, neither are any of my companions. You must have seen the sigil on our cloaks and thought we were?” The boy nodded, his eyes wide. “I'm not a Knight, but my Mother is. Lady Marwen the Storm-caller? Do you know her?”

The boy nodded excitedly, glad to still be allowed to speak “Yes, sir! Me mam tells the story of Eriastro to me and me sister every night about how she defeated a thousand soldiers, all by herself!”

A popular story amongst peasants in the world, it was an old tale, one of the first. It had been a rather small battle from what Marwen had told Mahalis, but the truth had grown bigger over time as these things do, the truth losing itself amidst the legend. Every Knight's actions during the war were exaggerated to untold levels. The actions of the Rebel King himself might as well be seen as divine acts.

“Ah, I know that one well. My mother told me it herself many times. As for the magic, yes, we can use it. Would you like to see?” Mahalis asked, his smile not fading as he squatted in front of the boy and held out his hand, ignoring the muck that was now embedding itself into the crimson cloak that had the Rebel Court's symbol stitched onto the back.

The cloaks were something that every descendant received upon joining together before a pilgrimage. It is supposed to identify them as the Knight Descendants to the world at large. Mahalis understood why the boy and his friends didn't realise this though, they were far too young and had only heard the old stories about the King and his Knight's. The Knight Descendants had not been around for almost a hundred years and even then there had only been two members, so many were still unfamiliar with them as a group. It was the primary intention of the descendants gathering now. To remind the people that the Court was not gone completely and that some yet remained who wore the crest that had once meant so much to so many.

The boy excitedly nodded again, a large grin of anticipation crossing his features as his friends, hearing the words, all took a few steps closer, staying far enough away in case it was some kind of cruel trick.

Mahalis held out his armoured hand, palm facing upwards and drew in a small amount of mana, shaping it into air with but a thought.

A moment passed before the air above his palm began to spin, the air compressing and creating a miniature hurricane in the palm of Mahalis' hand. The boy took a fearful step back but his jaw dropped at the incredible feat, his eyes fixed onto the swirling twister the Prince had summoned.

After a few seconds Mahalis let go of the mana and the wind faded back to it's normal self, leaving a stunned group of children who still stared in a mixture of shock and awe.

“Thank you, sir! That was amazin!” The boy said after a moment of silence, his face still carrying his grin as his cheeks flushed red in excitement.

Mahalis waved his hand, dismissing the gratitude, but his smile remained on his face. “Don't worry about it. You could do that as well someday, just need to practice.”

Perhaps it was wrong to give the boy any false hope, but Mahalis could sense a small amount of potential in his aura. Maybe this boy would be the next Rebel King, who could know?

The boy was shaking with excitement at the Elven Prince's words and could barely stop himself from jumping into the air. With a yell of joy the boy turned and ran back to his friends who were staring at him with slack jawed expressions, but immediately began to gather around him when he returned, asking him questions about the encounter as he stood in the middle, beaming and talking just as fast as his companions.

“I have to say, Mahalis, that was rather kind of you. They'll be talking about this encounter for a while I believe. The time they met Marwen of the Rebel Court's son.” Lor said, walking up to stand by the prince, his tone it's usual mocking self as he smirked.

“Maybe so. But children change their moods with the wind. I wouldn't be surprised if they forgot me before lunch.” Mahalis replied musingly.

Lor stared at his friend for a moment before letting loose a chuckle “I think you underestimate the influence we hold. Not merely as Descendants but as the next generation of the Rebel Court. You wait and see, one day mothers will be telling stories about us to their children. And our parents will merely be a footnote.” He laughed.

Mahalis rolled his eyes at the prince of the sea and turned to see what Kara and the others were doing.

It seemed that the First Daughter of Humanity was standing off to one side, her eyes closed and deep in thought, her expression a slightly different shade that usual. If he was forced to describe it Mahalis would guess that she seemed troubled by whatever the guard at the gate had told her. That suspicion was confirmed as Dran walked up to stand with his two fellow Descendants, his eyes also looking towards Kara.

“What do you think? Whatever it is, it can't be good. Perhaps Knight Cinder is still Hunting.”

Lor shook his head at the short man “I doubt it. The Hunt ended yesterday, well it should have anyway. She always holds it on the same day. In fact, it was why I insisted that we take our time. I was hoping that she would be in a better mood post hunt and wouldn't kill us when we told her the bad news.”

Mahalis grunted in response, his eyes not leaving Kara. Hilin had moved back to her group of royal guards, who stood at attention nearby. Despite having run to Ellai and then onto The Red Citadel, the elves didn't look tired at all, a testament to their training no doubt.

The Royal Guard were hand picked by Mahalis' father, Valant. They were even trained by him to a certain extent and that, coupled with their iron determination and will power, made them indispensable to the royal family.

Mahalis had trained with Hilin when he was younger. In fact she was the first person who taught him the sword, before his father took over. To say that he trusted her would be an understatement. He knew for a fact that she would lay down her life for him in a moments notice. He understood completely just how skilled and powerful his guards were, which was why he was so concerned that they currently looked so grim.

The soldiers were currently checking their armour and weapons as Hilin made her way round each one and spoke a whispered word into their ears, even as she checked her own equipment. As soon as they heard what Hilin had to say their faces changed completely, becoming deathly in their visage as they moved with the oiled efficiency of a war machine.

“I would say that it's even worse.” The prince said as Kara suddenly opened her eyes and began to make her way towards them.

What was strange for Mahalis was the way Kara looked as she made her way over. The woman was a fierce warrior and a natural leader, capable of taking on nearly any obstacle with barely a glance. Yet now she looked like she was hesitant, uncertain... and afraid.

“So, what's the word, commander?” Lor asked, surprisingly serious in his delivery, but Mahalis and Dran said nothing. All three of them had clocked the atmosphere of dread that was settling over the others and were prepared for the worse case scenario.

Kara at each of them in turn before drawing in a deep breath.

“It seems that we have a rather serious problem. The guards were accosted yesterday during The Hunt. It appears it was by a man wearing a mask... and wielding a sword made of darkness.”

For a moment none of them spoke as each member of the Knight Descendants involuntarily thought back to the moment a few short days ago when they had faced a nightmare and had somehow lived to tell the tale.

Mahalis' face in particular went pale, his hand reaching out for the familiar grip of The Angelis but again found nothing but air.

Dran's eyes narrowed as he tried to convey confidence, but the way he was thumbing the edge of his massive war axe betrayed his nervousness. He was the only one of the four who had been substantially wounded by the man wearing the King's mask and the very thought of meeting such an opponent in battle again filled him with fear, even as he tried to push it down to speak.

“Why would- why would he be here. Surely he would be running as far away from any Knight as he possibly could. To cause trouble during The Hunt? With Knight Cinder active in the city? It seems like suicide.” Dran said, trying to reassure himself in his mind that Cinder would be more than capable of taking down the pretender in the King's mask, but failing in the attempt.

“I agree. It is folly to believe he is here. Are you sure the guard is telling the truth?” Mahalis said through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the cold sweat that had appeared at the back of his neck as he hid his trembling hands under his cloak.

Kara nodded “I don't believe that he has any reason to lie. Why would he? And how did he know about Xolumbrandir? That's not all either...”

The others were silent as they waited for her to continue.

Kara took another deep breath, her breath shaking slightly as she exhaled “It seems that the man in the mask and Cinder fought in the Noble District, from what the guard said, most of the northern plaza was destroyed in their battle.”

Mahalis felt relief flood through him as he smiled while letting out quick breaths. Cinder must have defeated him then, the guards wouldn't be this calm, the people wouldn't be this calm, if Aunt Cinder was dead.

“So he's dead then right? I mean, he was strong but Cinder is a Knight. She definitely beat him, there's no way that he won... right?” Lor said, his tone changing at the end of his sentence as he saw that Kara's grim expression remained completely unchanged.

“From what the guard said, after their fight Cinder escorted the man into the palace, with four females garbed in black following soon after. I don't know the fights outcome but I think we can safely assume that Cinder yet lives and that this man is her prisoner... possibly.”

“Possibly?” Dran grumbled

“When they went into the palace the man was not chained or in shackles. He still carried Xolumbrandir but the guard is unsure on that, he only arrived at the very end, after their battle was over, he wasn't one of those who escorted them to the Red Citadel proper.”

Mahalis felt the panic rise up into his mind once again. Unshackled? Still carrying Xolumbrandir? And the four female warriors they had fought in Ellai? Did the man somehow manage to dominate Cinder's mind? Force her to aid him?

The very thought screamed impossible to him. Cinder was trained by Corus himself, but had received training from all the Knight's of The Rebel Court. In a way, she was all of them rolled together, with a touch of crazy thrown in. What kind of monster would be able to control her?

“It also seemed that Lady Cinder was very affectionate towards the man in the mask, she clung to his arm on the way to the palace.”

“Ah!” Lor said, a sudden smile breaking out onto his face as he turned away from the others and walked away, his hands on his hips as he let out a laugh.

Kara suddenly narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw “I don't know how this is funny Lor, but we need to go and see Lady Cinder, find out what's going on.”

“Which is dangerous and completely reckless. We have no idea who this man is or what he is truly capable of. I suggest that we fall back to somewhere safe and send a message to Callai. Perhaps the Queen will be able to aid us in this.” The words came from Hilin, who had walked up without any of them noticing, the hardened elf looking resolute in her suggestion.

Kara turned to the captain “Absolutely not! There's no time! We need to discover the cause of this now. What if Queen Cinder is in danger? What if she is somehow being controlled? This man's aura was like nothing I had ever seen before, He can control Xolumbrandir for fucks sake!”

Kara's heated response took them all aback for a moment. There was a reason that they all referred to her as the ice princess but it seems that she had finally lost her cool.

“And you think you would succeed where Lady Cinder could not?” Hilin said simply, her eyes boring into Kara's own.

“No... I... I just think we should do something.”

“Ladies!”

The two women broke off their staring contest as Lor's cry pulled them back harshly in reality. Where they were met by the smiling face of the prince of the sea.

“I believe that the best course of action would be to go and see Knight Cinder. In fact, I think it might be the best decision any of us will ever make.” Lor said with a smirk, his eyes bright with excitement.

“What do you mean, Lor?” Mahalis asked, taking a step towards the young half elf, noticing the energy that seemed to radiate off the man in waves.

“I have a theory. In fact, I first had it after we fought this stranger. It's insane and it's wild... but for the love of all things I believe it might actually be true.”

“So what is this theory, you fucking sea rat! Just tell us and stop dancing around the subject!” Dran bellowed, reaching his wit's end with Lor's antics.

The prince of the sea shook his head with a grin “Now that will be ruining the surprise! Just for once... I need you all to trust me... oh, and pray.”

“Pray for what exactly?” Hilin asked, frustration showing clearly on her face.

“Pray that I'm right, pray that Cinder is not actually being controlled and pray that we don't die. Just... Pray.”