The Missing Traveller

propaganda. I was proud of being from Deemstun, proud to be a loyal Defender of King Garron the Great.” Yuri’s mouth pulled into something close to a sneer. “I loved Deemstun and I loved my king. When Garron named Baudouin, his charismatic and selfless nephew, Crown Prince, I thought with him as our future king, we’d be unstoppable. Baudouin was only a boy then, but Garron assigned him many responsibilities, including overseeing the mines. And to be selected to join the Order…it was all I never knew I dreamed.

“I worked in the mines, ensuring the safety of the workers. That rumble you always hear?” He paused, and in the quiet Alister heard it again. “That’s the mines. I saw some things working there that made me uneasy, but I still served, confident Baudouin had only the best intentions for Deemstun at heart. The illusion crumbled when I met her—Alina.” Yuri’s eyes softened. “I thought I’d loved Deemstun and my king and Crown Prince…but the love I developed for her over the years surpassed my childish ideals of what love truly is. Even now, I’m still glad I was even able to experience a day with her, let alone years…” Yuri was silent for a moment, his expression a sad longing.

Alister’s indignation vanished the moment he realised Yuri spoke in past tense. “So…what happened?”

Yuri smiled slightly. “We wed. She opened my eyes to a whole new world. She made me question what had never been questioned before. By the time we were married—a year or so after we met—I’d serious doubts about the ethics of what was going on in the mines and in the city itself. The marriage—and our entire relationship—had to be entirely secret. I swore an oath upon joining the Order, I’d never sire children or take a woman’s hand in marriage.” Yuri shook his head. “At the time I hadn’t been concerned by this, but it caused Alina and me many problems.

“The day I finally recognised Baudouin for the monster he is began a normal day. I was deep in the mines, overseeing the industrial effort. Recently, we had mined into the centre of Mount Era, as close as we could get to where the Stone of Dominus was. But by this point, we had begun to experience an even greater number of creatures which would emerge from the dark depths, and set upon any person it encountered. Not to mention the ore itself, so close to the centre, was dangerous to mine or even be near to.” Yuri’s frown deepened. “I urged Baudouin not to mine any further, for it was too dangerous for the workers. He cared not, and the workers were sent in. They didn’t mind. Anything to help their noble Crown Prince, even giving their lives…or their minds. It was my job to keep them alive, and I wasn’t always successful.

“Anyway, on that day, it was just a normal morning—no creatures from the dark to pick off the miners. I finished my shift and left for my home. I knew something was wrong when I saw the front door had been broken down.”

The hairs stood on the back of Alister’s neck as Yuri went on.

“I rushed inside and found my wife and two sons lined up in the kitchen, knives held to their throats by my fellow members of the Order. Prince Desmond, brother of King Garron, was there waiting for me. He told me I’d been charged and found guilty of insubordination against Deemstun and the crown. Punishment was immediate.” Yuri’s voice shook, and his knuckles whitened. “They slit Alina’s throat with a knife, and took my two boys away…they were only thirteen and fifteen…I’ll never forget that final look she gave me as Desmond announced Baudouin’s punishment. Time slowed in that moment when she looked at me…and I saw the life fade from her eyes before me.

“In the next moment, time sped up. In an instant I was looking between those familiar faces from the Order. Both my boys were dragged out of the room in another second to be executed. I was beaten around—nothing too serious—but enough to bring me to submission. I was broken. I lowered my head, awaiting the blade that’d end my life and take me with my family. But it never came. I was told instead, my punishment would be to live. Live, and know I’d brought upon the deaths of those I loved the most. Then they left me, kneeling in a pool of my wife’s blood.”

Yuri closed his eyes. “I’d nothing. I was finished. In the morning, I’d everything, and in the evening, it was gone. Garron, Baudouin, Desmond…they took my family, they took my job, crushed my spirit. It was so sudden. I lost everything important to me in just a day. It’s been six years. I’ve spent since then smouldering away. I cannot forgive what has been done. I did what I could with the Order still watching me closely—housing Lark, helping Ren, working in the mines…but I never had the opportunity to bring down the throne.”

He looked up at Alister, his grey eyes burning. “I hate Baudouin for what he has done, and for what he will do. He’s going to cause immense suffering and death to the entire Mount if he continues down this path. He must be stopped. If to stop Baudouin I must kill…then I am at peace with that.” Alister had never seen Yuri speak with such intensity. “I do not revel in the murder of another human, but it’s necessary to stop him. If I have to kill a few humans to save thousands, then so be it. We cannot convince him with words, nor trick him. If we attempt to stop him, he will respond with force. We must be ready to respond in kind, because that’s the only way Baudouin can be stopped. Do you understand, Alister?”

The rage Alister had felt not five minutes before transformed as he listened to Yuri’s story. It became a cold fury. This was exactly the kind of deed Baudouin would commit to achieve his means. Yuri’s hatred of the so-called king made perfect sense. The man murdered two children and a woman, for nothing more than the fact they existed.

Lark told him vaguely about Baudouin’s cruelty, but it had never registered to Alister the kind of things that he’d done. After what Baudouin took from Yuri—and likely countless others— Alister couldn’t hesitate any longer, nor second guess his actions.

“He did that?” Alister’s voice shook with anger.

“Yes. This is why I wanted to help you. I don’t care if I must die for this cause.”

The flame Alister held since he received the message from Ronan travelled from his chest to the tips of his fingers. “Neither do I.”

“There you are!”

Mirielle stood in front of them and caught her breath. “Are you alright, Alister?”

Before he’d a chance to say anything, a trumpet blasted through the town square, and a resonating voice followed. “His Royal Highness, Prince Desmond.”

The three dozen people in the town square dropped to their knees, and Alister shot his gaze to the top of the staircase leading to the other districts. On the top stood a ring of Defenders, surrounding a man in a red suit. A cold smile came to Alister’s lips. Perfect.

Mirielle and Yuri were moments behind the others to drop to their knees, and Mirielle hissed up at Alister.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Do what?”

“I’ll be arrested.” The plan had to go ahead for the following day, and the arrest had to occur at least a full day before then. He stood tall, and one hand drew out the bottle of red rust that remained in his coat pocket. “Spread it under a layer of my bandage.”

Mirielle’s eyes were as wide as ever, and Yuri stared at him sharply.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He tossed the bottle to Mirielle, who unscrewed the cap while he rolled up his pant leg. Alister looked back at the staircase; Desmond—the man who personally murdered Yuri’s family—was at the bottom, and his Defender guard stared straight back at Alister. He was the only man who stood in the town square aside from the royal guard.

“You two can figure out how to unlock the door and disguise yourselves for tomorrow?” Alister muttered.

Yuri nodded. “Leave it to us. We’ll see you tomorrow, no matter what it takes.” Alister looked at Yuri in the eyes, and saw his own fiery determination mirrored in those grey irises. No matter what it takes.

Mirielle uncovered the layers of his bandage and smeared a thick layer of red rust over it. It was close to the colour of blood, and the consistency of jam. Alister stared firmly back at the Defenders while Mirielle tucked his bandage back in.

“Thank you for everything, Alister,” Mirielle whispered. “The Divine watch over you.”

He shot a glance down at her and smiled. “And you. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mirielle.”

Alister’s heart pounded as the guard approached him.

The Defender’s voice was harsh. “Take a knee out of respect for His Royal Highness.”

Alister was cold and calculating as he decided which Elin-tor moves to use. “I’ll never bow to a murderer.”

He lunged towards the Defender’s hilt. Gasps echoed around him. The Defender reacted slowly, his eyes wide, and Alister drew his straight sword and leaped to Desmond before they could react. His sword tip pressed against prince’s throat, and he stared into Desmond’s cold, grey eyes. A hint of fear slid past Desmond’s arrogance.

The Defenders froze, waiting for their prince’s word for action.

“Are you going to kill me, peasant?” Desmond said mockingly, and flicked his head so a dark blonde curl fell over his eyebrow.

Alister’s laugh was cold.

Without warning, Desmond twisted away from the sword, quick as a viper. Alister heard Desmond’s own sword unsheathed more than he saw it.

Desmond scraped Alister’s sword away, and it clattered to the ground.

Alister jerked away from Desmond’s strike. He struck Desmond’s wrist with an open palm, and locked their arms together to disarm the prince. Desmond’s grasp around his sword loosened, and he winced at Alister’s lock.

Yuri and Alister practised such an Elin-tor manoeuvre countless times.

Alister threw his fist into prince’s face before he or the Defenders could react. As soon as the shock ran up his arm, arms immobilised him from all sides. He tensed all of his muscles, but didn’t resist.

Yuri’s words came to Alister’s mind. “You fools! By this time tomorrow, your precious king will be dust and ashes!” He boomed a laugh, for good measure, and a cloth stretched across his mouth.

He whipped his head around as the Defenders forced him across the town square. Shocked faces stared at him. Mirielle’s eyebrows pulled up in fear, but Yuri’s stony expression strengthened Alister’s resolve.

Alister continued to push and pull at the Defenders, while listening to Desmond’s orders.

“Take him to the meeting room at the prison.” The damp cloth he held to his jaw muffled his stern voice. “I’ll meet you there in two hours.” Alister suppressed a grin, and maintained his icy expression.

The so-called prince of Deemstun took a flight of stairs with half the Defenders, while the others led Alister through Deemstun’s maze of corridors. He was vaguely aware they headed into Aronin, the prison’s district, and recognised the area five minutes before they reached the large iron doors.

One of the Defenders pounded on the door, and after a moment, the square section slid to the right. A uniformed guard stood on the other side.

“We’ve a prisoner for the meeting room under the order of His Royal Highness, Prince Desmond.” The Defender tightened his vice grip around Alister’s wrists. “Under charge of assaulting His Royal Highness and threatening the murder of His Majesty.”

The guard nodded and closed the window. One of Alister’s other Defenders pulled the lever next to the door, and the first set of iron doors opened.

The guards’ quarters were just how Yuri and Ren described it, and the Defenders led him into one of the rooms; the storage room, if Alister wasn’t mistaken.

There, the Defenders turned out all of his pockets, and left him in nothing but his breeches. One of the Defenders made a scathing remark about his tattoo, and Alister gritted his teeth to keep from retorting. They tore his father’s timepiece out of his pocket and tossed it in the pile with his other belongings.

Alister winced when the Defender pushed on his leg where the red rust was. “He’s got a bandage, here. It’s bled through. He’ll need a healer.”

The guard peered at it. “Just leave it there for now. The healer can have a look at it tonight when he comes through. I don’t want him bleeding all over my floors.”

It had to be the first of their plans to go smoothly. They hauled Alister back out of the room and through the second set of iron doors, to the low security section.

Alister allowed only his eyes to dart around the circular room. Every inch was metal, and he wondered which of the barred cells held Seniro. The prisoners were only a fog of unrecognisable faces. The Defenders led him past the guard’s station in the centre of the room, and down an iron flight of stairs to the second set of iron doors. This is it.

Alister was intensely aware of the damp sensation of the red rust soaking through his bandages. He watched the Defenders and guards as they reached for the lever to open the doors into high sec. His heart hammered, and he held his fists clenched to prevent them from shaking.

The iron doors swung open, and at once Alister twisted and kicked whatever he could come into contact with.

“Hold him down!”

His knee collided with something soft, the grip on his wrists loosened.

Alister yanked them free and stumbled towards the doors as he reached into the bandage on his leg and loosened it to uncover the red rust. Arms hurled him to the ground. His head smashed against the floor. Alister narrowed his eyes to clear his blurred vision. Through the tangling of Defenders limbs as they took hold of him, he saw he lay next to the iron door’s frame.

He yelled as loud as he could with the cloth still in his mouth, and managed to scrape his leg against the edge of the iron door and its latches. Pain cut deep into his leg—he may’ve reopened his injury from the Flight of Siben—and his legs pressed into the floor. He gritted his teeth in as they forced his injury to the ground.

“If you try that again, you’ll regret it,” a voice growled in his ear. They hauled him to his feet. A muffled moan escaped from Alister’s mouth, and they dragged him up the stairs and through to another room. He caught a glimpse of the solid cell doors; they had small openings at the bottom. Lark was in one of those. If Alister called out, the merchant likely would’ve been able to hear him.

They shoved Alister into a chair, and pulled his arms behind his back and secured them there. He hung his head in exhaustion as the Defenders left the room. The latch closed behind him. Most of his body ached from being pushed down, and the cuts from the Defender who fought him stung. His leg felt damp—he hoped from the red rust, not blood—and the pain forced him to keep it tensed. The cloth tugged at the corners of his mouth, and his head was bruised. His entire body shook with cold; no fire lit the room, and no shirt or coat kept the winter bite from his bare skin.

He closed his eyes and smiled beneath the cloth. He’d done it. Red rust was slathered over the door and its latches, and looked like nothing more than blood. Even if they washed it off, the red stain would be enough to burn through the iron. Despite his aching body, Alister wore a grin.