Grim faces were revealed as both abductors removed their masks. The speaker of the Ikarus council, Elmer Mongs, looked enraged. His cataract eye was unmistakable. He grabbed the young king by the neck. “You’ve been a curse to this kingdom since the day you were born! You stole the sun. The clouds that you, Rayne Volpi, have brought with you from the depths of darkness are destroying our lands. The delicacies and luxuries we once shared are slowly vanishing from our lives. But most of all, you hurt my son. My son! That was all I needed to make the decision to do what will benefit everybody.”
Rayne recognized the other man. He was a fisherman named Lief, a simple-minded womanizer who lived on the docks near Cadbin’s Alehouse. His nose was long and pointy like the dorsal fin of a fish. He hammered a wooden post into a pile of stone.
Speaker Mongs propped up a log to sit on and looked on. He took a knife from Lief’s bag and began to peel a potato with it. “Make sure it’s stable and secure, then tie him tight! Use one of your special knots.”
Lief handled Rayne like a rag doll.
Rayne tried to awaken the recessive power that he had uncontrollably unleashed on Fervan—a power he never knew that he had. He assumed it was a manifestation of his emotion. So he gripped the fisherman’s wrist and thought about inflicting the same burn into him. But Lief just pulled his arm away.
Back in the street Rayne had been angry when Fervan insulted him. Now, he was scared. And his power couldn’t manifest. Nothing happened.
Lief threw him against the post and pulled his arms behind it, tying his hands together with rope. He tightened the knot so hard, Rayne’s hands went numb.
After the vegetable was skinned, Speaker Mongs sliced the spud into bite-sized pieces, and watched the boy being readied for death as he chewed on one portion at a time. “Loosen his gag. I want to hear his last words,” the speaker said.
Rayne tried to scream, but nothing came out. Terror overwhelmed him. “Please. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. I would never…” His voice was hoarse.
“Didn’t mean to?” The speaker laughed. “Well you did! Now my only son is tainted. You burned a print of your hand into his arm, now I can only wonder what kind of devilry you’re infested with,” the speaker said.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
“Time to go back to the shadow land,” Lief said to the king.
Thunder roared and a downpour began.
“My king?” the speaker snarled. “No. I don’t think so,” His face turned from the enjoyment of Rayne’s torment to plain serious. “I wish I could tie you to the top of the temple so everyone else could watch you burn. I think they would like that. They would feel satisfied and eased that you were gone.” He pointed to Lief to begin. “You’re a curse, no longer!”
The fisherman circled the helpless boy, shaking a container of oil on and all around him.
“Make sure you get his blood,” the speaker said.
When Lief approached him with a knife and glass vile, Rayne shrieked. A burst of high frequency sound split the air. It was so piercing that his scream made both Speaker Mongs’s and the fisherman’s ears bleed.
The speaker dropped his torch as he blocked his ears, igniting the oiled path leading to the boy king. Lief jumped away just in time for the coursing flaming to miss his pants.
Rayne hurled his face away from the rising fire, the heat scorching every crevice of his body, engulfing him. He shook side to side, hoping for someone to stop the pain. The first face that he imagined was Montague’s. “Monte!” he yelled.
WITHIN SECONDS, only silence remained. The fire eventually surrendered to the angry sky’s pouring rain. Smoke rose into the east wind. Within the heavy fog, the burned-black pole remained lodged upright in the rocks. But there was no sign of a body.
“No,” Lief said. He stepped closer to the post, “No, No, No. This can’t be possible. I…I tied him tight. I saw him burning. He couldn’t have loosened that knot!” The fisherman was frantic. When Lief was a boy, his father would take bets at the docks for coin, challenging any man to undo a ‘fisherman’s knot’. To this day, no one had ever done so. Not even Lief, a master of nets and knots. “I didn’t get his blood!”
“Give me your knife,” Speaker Mongs said.
Lief was confused, but gave it to him nonetheless.
“Give me your hand,” he said.
“Why?”
Elmer grabbed Lief’s hand and pulled it towards him against the fisherman’s will.
“Are you crazy?” said Lief.
“Do you want to go back to Lord Alexandal without a sample of Rayne’s blood? He said that was most important.”
Lief was silent.
“Do you?” the speaker pushed.
“No,” Lief said.
“Of course not—not if you value your life.”
“But where is the boy?” Lief asked.
Lief could see that the speaker was as dumbfounded as him, only Elmer didn’t admit it. He sliced Lief’s arm and held a vile under his dripping blood.
“Now we have something to bring back. Gather your bags,” Speaker Mongs said blank-faced. “He’s dead.”
“Dead?” Lief repeated. He was clearly at odds with the speaker’s assumption. “How do you know he’s dead? Where is his body? He’s just…gone.”
“When our sister mage failed to collect the baby prince’s blood before she was supposed to kill him, what happened to her?”
Lief didn’t know. He didn’t respond.
“She was ordered to take her own life,” said Elmer. “Failure is unacceptable.”
“Alexandal will understand,” Lief said. He wanted to believe that.
“Alexandal is under a spell. Luckily, El Krea was able to enslave his mind. And he is our commander, not our lord master. The lord master rewards failure with death. Are you ready to die, Lief?”
The fisherman shook his head.
“If we return, failing a second time, what do you think our master will do with us?”
Lief couldn’t answer.
“Now,” Elmer said,
