Darkness Falling: Shadow of the Seeker Read online

  Darkness Falling

  Shadow of the Seeker

  by

  R. R. Willica

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  © R. R. Willica, all rights reserved

  Cover art by R. R. Willica

  This book is dedicated in loving memory

  To my mom and dad, Tom and Francie.

  Darkness Falling

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  AFTERWARD

  CHAPTER ONE

  “The Emperor approaches; the prisoners shall kneel!”

  The Magister of Law’s command echoed across the vaulted ceiling of the Chamber of Justice. Brosen didn’t move, his body tensed with anger and disgust. He stood with his icy blue eyes glaring downward at the dark wood floor. Beside him, Treve dropped to his knees, head bowed. Brosen refused to show respect or service to the Empire of Sa’Toret-Ekar and he no longer feared the inevitable punishment.

  The extravagance of the Chamber of Justice was a testament to the misguided excess the Empire had become. Stone pillars stretched upward to the vaulted ceiling while rows of velvet benches remained empty for lack of citizenry to sit upon them. There was no justice to be found, the voice of the people was silent. The Imperial ideal rang clear; the Emperor’s word was law.

  The magister motioned to the four armed Imperial guard standing behind the prisoners. “Make it so.”

  Brosen heard a click and felt a sharp pain in his leg as the Enforcer lodged the butt of a White Energy gun into the back of his knee. It was practiced move, and precise. Brosen involuntarily fell to the hardwood with a resonant thud. Treve glanced at him from the corner of his eye, but Brosen’s gaze did not lift from the floor.

  Above them, at the pinnacle of the raised dais, Ka Harn Kei’Oren took his place as judge. His son, Kei Xander Kei’Oren followed behind, sitting upon the third tier of the platform with the higher court.

  “This trial is merely a formality and shall be broadcast to every screen in the Empire,” the magister proclaimed, motioning to the hidden cameras throughout the chamber, before taking his seat.

  There was a moment of silence before the Emperor spoke. “Brosen En-Harn and Treve En-Harn, you are guilty of high treason. Aiding and abetting a slave, attempted escape from Imperial territory, unapproved usage of Imperial vehicles and weaponry, and assaulting the crown prince. We would like to have some answers for these heinous acts before the final judgment is passed.”

  Treve was jostled forward as the guard behind him nudged his shoulder with the butt of his gun. The ex-Enforcer glared back at him with a frown, amber eyes glowing in the dim light.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I could no longer witness the insanity of Kei Xander’s actions in silence. He is rude, cruel, and mentally unstable. I feel he is an embarrassment to the Empire and unfit to lead. That is why I tackled him, to prevent him from causing further harm to himself and those around him.”

  Xander snorted in amusement, shifting in his seat. The assembled magistrates exchanged looks of exasperation at the response. Speaking out against the actions of the prince was just as much of a crime as the physical altercation. The truth remained, it didn’t matter what he said. They were already aware that they were dead men.

  “Kei Xander’s behavior is none of your concern,” Ka Harn admonished half-heartedly. “He will be dealt with by those of the appropriate rank. Despite your noble intentions, you cannot be spared.”

  Treve didn’t flinch. The judgment was not a surprise.

  “And you, Brosen En-Harn, what is your excuse?” Ka Harn asked.

  Brosen was silent. Even after the guard behind him pushed his shoulder he did not speak. All of this was a game and he didn’t care to play.

  “Your silence will not win you any favors,” the Emperor warned.

  “Just tell them anything so we can be done with this,” Treve whispered.

  The silence deepened. There was a palpable shift to the energy in the room. Brosen may have fled Rau’Tesche-Awn as an Enforcer, but he returned as something entirely different.

  Slowly, he raised his glowing blue eyes to the level of the Emperor’s throne. The intensity of his emotion illuminated the room in cerulean light. In their seats, the magistrates shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

  When at last Brosen spoke, his voice was a raspy growl. “You allow yourselves to sit comfortably behind your walls while those under your care starve, grow ill, and die. Even within your glass Tower you allow your servants to be abused. All of it needs to be stopped.”

  “What does an uneducated soldier know of governing an Empire?” Ka Harn scoffed. “Clearly you are a traitor of the worst kind, capable of inciting similar actions in those around you.”

  “My death will only be one among many, you should be more concerned with the true rebellion massing against you,” Brosen warned.

  “Be that as it may, you are hereby sentenced to die.” The Emperor smiled as he spoke, amused by the threat rather than frightened. “We have heard enough. Tomorrow at dusk you will both be put to death by decapitation, as is traditional. Take them back to their cells.”

  The Imperial guards dragged them to their feet. As they were pushed toward the exit, Brosen glanced over his shoulder. Xander’s mocking grin was visible even from a distance. Rage and anguish swelled in Brosen’s heart. He wanted nothing more than to punch the prince in his face until nothing but a bloody pulp remained.

  “You think you killed her but she’s alive! Even after I die she’ll return and burn your Tower to the ground!” Brosen’s voice edged on hysterics but he didn’t care. He wanted them to squirm.

  The Emperor did not respond. He was already on his way out through a side door, and perhaps he didn’t hear at all.

  Xander stayed. “I felt her life force drain into me, fool. She’s mine now. Forever.”

  Brosen struggled against the guards. If he could just break free and kill the prince, he would die a happy man. It took the strength of all four men, but they held him firmly and shoved him into the elevator. Treve followed obediently. His eyes met with Brosen’s for a moment, full of pity.

  It wasn’t the first time Brosen expressed his belief that Impyra lived. He could still feel her energy all around him and see her in his dreams. Treve considered it nothing more than grief. If it had been anyone else on the mountain that day, Brosen would agree. Impyra, however; was different. She was powerful and resourceful. Xander was arrogant enough to have allowed her to live without realizing he failed.

  An awkward silence settled on the six men crammed shoulder to shoulder in the elevator car. Brosen glared at the guard across from him, who stared pointedly at the door. Enforcers chosen to become Imperial guard were deemed the most loyal during training, but their service wasn’t by choice. All Enforcers were slaves, whether they wanted to admit it or not, and deep inside they all longed for freedom.

  “If
you care about the Empire and the people, then you understand what I said in there. We’re trained to protect, but all we do is watch people die.”

  “Silence, traitor,” the guard said, shooting a glance in Brosen’s direction. He thought he caught a shadow of uncertainty in his eyes.

  The elevator doors slid open to the entrance to the prison. They walked the labyrinthine corridors in silence until they reached their cells. Brosen didn’t bother to fight, and went inside without being forced. Treve was put in the cell across from his, and he stared at his ex-partner’s glum expression as they faced each other.

  “We have until tomorrow,” Brosen said before the guard closed the door.

  “Great. A whole day staring at four walls.”

  “A lot can change in a day,” Brosen reminded him and the door slammed in his face.

  It was a truth they had both learned the hard way.

  * * *

  The heavy wooden doors to the Chamber of Justice swung closed. Ka Harn sighed, rubbing his temples with his index finger and thumb to ease the pressure building in his head. Perhaps having a trial was a waste of time, but it would remind the populous that the Empire did not take treason lightly. He feared much was lost by the fiasco of single escaped slave and the Enforcer who helped her. The delicate balance of power must be restored.

  In the moment that passed, he was reminded of his eldest daughter, Gleyth. She often waited for him during proceedings. The room felt empty without her. Only four days earlier he forced her into an arranged marriage, removing her from Rau’Tesche-Awn against her will. Much like the trial, it was a necessary action to prove his hold on the Empire was strong. He dared not waiver on the policies on which the aristocracy relied. Despite that, a pang of guilt welled within his heart. It was the not how he wished to part with his beloved daughter.

  The door opened and the crown prince entered. Harn felt his headache increase at the mere sight of his eldest son. While Gleyth held his heart, Xander only tried his patience.

  “I know Impyra is dead. The sword drained every last bit of her power into me.” The glint in Xander’s dark eyes was unsettling as he savored the memory.

  “Yes,” Harn acknowledged, if only to keep Xander from sharing. “Petor Garinsith has confirmed your account. You have nothing to prove.”

  Xander licked his lips, his fingers twitching in agitation. He had not been the same since returning from Renenook. Harn hoped it was a temporary change, but feared it may have permanent results.

  “May I request to be the one to execute the traitors, father?” Xander asked politely, which was suspicious in itself. “It would be proper for me to finish what I started. I could even use the sword.”

  Garinsith warned Harn that reuniting his son with the blade may not be wise. He also foretold that Xander would request the sword whenever opportunity presented itself, and the Emperor trusted that returning the blade could be dangerous.

  “Perhaps; I will consider it. For now, I wish to take some time to myself. We’ll speak later.”

  Xander inclined his head to show he would obey. Harn should have been pleased with the increase in respect, but it only served to make the Emperor wary.

  Not wishing to engage in further conversation with his heir, Ka Harn offered weak smile before he walked out and shut the door behind him. He hoped that whatever was wrong with Xander resolved itself. The young man had never been pleasant, but even his previous personality was better than the unsettling thing he had become.

  * * *

  Left alone, Xander stretched the muscles in his neck and glared after his father. If he were able to use energy, he would have burned a hole in the wooden door. Without the sword he was nothing more than a helpless fool.

  Although separated from the Seeker by time and space, Xander could still feel it buzzing in the back of his mind. It felt as if a part of him were torn away. He wanted nothing more than to be reunited with the blade. Unfortunately, Petor Garinsith and his three Mutilators were keeping it under constant guard. Xander despised them, but he also knew he couldn’t win in direct combat. He grudgingly admitted that the Enforcers were no match for the Mutilators after having seen them in action.

  When he felt he’d given Ka Harn enough time to disappear, Xander made his own way to the elevator. He was unable to return to his office. The seventieth floor window of Empire Tower the window in his office remained unrepaired.

  Time moved chaotically after Impyra’s dramatic escape. The planning for Gleyth’s celebration, as well as the arrival of Garinsith and the nobility, kept the slaves busy with immediate tasks. Then, without warning, it began to snow and continued to show no sign of stopping. Installing new glass was no easy feat. In inclement weather it was impossible.

  Xander’s apartments shared the floor with his office. Before leaving to hunt Impyra and bring her to justice, the prince endured the cold through a combination of rage and adrenalin fueled obsession. After his return he found the floor had become completely uninhabitable.

  This was not ideal for a man who preferred seclusion and privilege.

  The temporary solution was simple; he was moved to the sixty-fifth floor which was usually reserved for the most important guests. The quarters were already in order after being vacated by Fa Marden Fei’Escareyn and his son Fei Arentey, Xander’s new in-laws.

  Before the Seeker, Xander would have thrown a tantrum at the imaginary lowering of his status by his physical placement in the Tower. Instead, Xander took the change in stride. Although he detested being removed from his beloved office, he found solace in the knowledge that he was several floors closer to where the sword was housed. He only needed an opportunity to get it back.

  Impyra may be dead, but Xander’s vengeance was incompletely. He longed to feel Brosen’s warm blood draining onto his fingers, and to watch the light leave Garinsith’s eyes. More than that, Ka Harn had outlived his usefulness as Emperor. He may fool himself into believing he was worthy of the throne, but Xander knew better.

  All of this would be made possible once he regained the sword. With the Seeker he could rule the world, not as Emperor, but as death itself.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The wind swept across the deck of the battleship as it collided with a white caped wave. Sheyra gripped the gunwale, squinting against the snow flying in her face. Beside her, Keysa shivered, her petite body shaking despite her insulated uniform and heavy coat. Nakiya, with her stockier build, had fewer problems with the cold. Pheyren was so thin he could have blown away in a sturdy gust of wind.

  Sheyra ignored the freezing temperatures and focused on their objective. The Resistance was in a race to Rau’Tesche-Awn; their goal to rescue Brosen before his execution.

  “We won’t be the on the front line,” Nakiya said to reassure them. “You’re all green and untrained. But they’re going to need every gun out there.”

  “Isn’t it crazy to launch an offensive on the capital just because one person got captured?” Pheyren asked. “No one would run in there to rescue me.”

  “Shut up,” Keysa said between chattering teeth. “Brosen is a symbol of hope.”

  “He’s more than that,” Nakiya said. “For a soldier of the Empire to stand up against the tyranny he represented makes him a rallying point for the Ekar. Impyra may have been killed, but Brosen continues to prove that you can fight back. If Talon can free him from Empire Tower, there won’t be any doubt that the time to rise and unite is now.”

  Sheyra wanted to speak, but couldn’t. There was too much pain in her heart. For her, saving Brosen wasn’t a political motive. First, Lineya died of the Senna plague. Before she could fully embrace her grief, news of Impyra’s death had reached the Resistance. She didn’t want to lose another friend.

  “I bet you’re disappointed you’re saddled with us. You could be a big hero with the boss.” Pheyren looked at Nakiya with a smirk.

  She frowned. “Being a hero isn’t about the deeds you perform but how you carry yourself in the face of adversi
ty.”

  “Right.” Pheyren snorted. “Did Talon teach you that?”

  The young Ardnilian woman looked away, annoyed.

  “Green squad!” A man ran up to them. “Be ready to launch.”

  “We’re ready,” Nakiya said.

  Sheyra’s eyes traced the deck. Four squads of twenty soldiers each were prepared to go over in the rafts. She couldn’t see the shore through the storm, but it must be close if it was time.

  “Sheyra, are you sure you’re up for this?”

  Sheyra felt the resolve to fight strong within her. “Yes. Let’s go save my friend.”

  One by one they climbed up into the dinghy. Nakiya took the helm and Keysa, being the best shot, sat in the bow. Sheyra and Pheyren sat together in the middle. Her heart pounded as they were swung out into the air and began to descend toward the churning sea.

  “I hate this part,” Pheyren groaned.

  “This crew has been doing this for years,” Nakiya reminded him. “Don’t think we’ve all just appeared out here from thin air.”

  Her words didn’t sooth the tall man in the slightest. Instead, he closed his eyes and gripped the edge of the seat. Sheyra could not help but sympathize with his nervousness as they swayed with the force of the wind and the motion of the ship. To add to her anxiety, she felt as if she were shrinking as they dropped down the side of the carrier.

  The raft hit the water, icy spray leapt up to meet them. “Pull the release!” Nakiya ordered, and they unhooked the straps from the crane. “Now, hang on!”

  The engine sputtered to life but the waves fought against them, threatening to push them back. Sheyra watched the other dinghies bob in the sea like black rubber corks. It would be easy to take on too much water and capsize.

  “This is insane!” Pheyren shouted.

  “I can see the shore!” Keysa called over her shoulder.

  Sheyra’s fear swelled as they were left to the mercy of the angry water. A tingling sensation burned in her chest. It reminded her of when Impyra used her energy. She remembered when they were running from the Enforcers’ helicopters the first day they met. That felt like an impossible situation, too.