A rough pair of gloved hands grabbed Jack's shoulders, violently turned him onto his stomach, and brought him up to his knees.
Cera stood before him, smirking confidently. When they had first met in Perdan, the warlock had dressed simply, hiding his true power behind an understated black doublet. But now, every piece of clothing professed royalty and excess, from his violet- and gold-trimmed tunic to his shimmering cloak embroidered with the royal seal and fastened around his neck with a jewel-encrusted broach. A pair of impressively-armored knights flanked him, each with a hand resting on their sword pummel.
Rufus was no where to be found.
"Welcome back to Guildron, Jackson Ward." Cera's words dripped with malicious satisfaction.
He said the words with the gusto of an actor on stage, waving his arm dramatically. Jack looked around and suddenly knew where he was. He still remembered being led through here as a prisoner of the King.
The White Palace's royal throne room was filled to the rafters with court members, all ornately dressed in myriad colors and fabrics. The most impressive-looking aristocrats stood on the ground floor, pushed back against the pillars, keeping their distance from Jack and Cera, either out of respect or fear. The lesser lords and ladies filled the two balcony levels, pressing against one another for the best view of the theatrics below.
Before he could admire the scene further, Cera stepped deep into his personal bubble, examining him from head to toe. "I see you have...matured since our last meeting. And you come to us more prepared."
A soldier took Jack's blade from its sheath, then gasped, dropping Brigand's Blade on the marble tile. The aristocrats within view gasped as well.
Cera stared in genuine amazement, then leaned down to retrieve the Blade. "You continue to surprise me. Marcus was always full of surprises too. It's one thing I hated most about him." Cera nodded to the soldier, who quickly composed himself and unstrapped the scabbard from Jack's waist. Cera sheathed the sword and handed it to one of his knights.
"You come to us armed with your father's weapon," Cera continued, speaking to both Jack and the audience. "After escaping through the portal that you swore could not be opened. What are we to make of this?"
All eyes were on Jack. He knew the next few words could mean life or death. "I only came for what you stole from me. I mean Guildron no harm and will leave in peace once you return Kate to me."
"How can I barter with a criminal?" Cera said. "You cravenly escaped a death sentence that I passed and, with your rebel friends, killed my men. Royal justice demands that you complete that sentence." From the crowd, there came murmurs of agreement.
For two years, Rufus had taught Jack every skill necessary to survive - except, apparently, how to debate.
"When I escaped execution, you were in open war against the Crown," Jack said, thinking fast. "Why should I pay for a crime committed against the Crown's own enemies?"
More murmurs of agreement, but this time for Jack. Cera regarded him, not with outrage, but with a playful grin. He was enjoying this. "So you have become a lawyer as well as a warrior since we last met?" Cera said to a few light chuckles. "Very well. If you wish to question the King's justice, then why don't you ask him yourself?"
Jack turned as the crowd parted around the golden throne. A young man slouched on the throne, one arm popping up his head, a golden crown sitting askew on golden hair. His free hand tapped restlessly on the throne and his classically handsome features sagged with a weariness normally seen in men twice his age. Korda Wayland looked less like a monarch and more like a kid sitting in time-out.
"King?" Jack said, looking back to Cera, whose gleeful smile only widened. "What happened to Wayland?"
"I am King Wayland," Korda said. It came out as a fact, without any threat or anger. "I am the first of my line, lord of the seven cities, and supreme ruler of Guildron."
A dozen questions cropped up in Jack's mind but they were all superseded by Rufus's fierce instructions: Head down, left foot back, right arm out, chin to chest.
Standing straight, Jack executed a royal bow, complete with a perfectly respectful, "Your grace."
The court members murmured excitedly and Korda gave him a mildly amused huff.
"So, you are matured and refined," Cera said, circling around Jack. "Curiouser and curiouser. Yet the charges against you stand. Of course, the crown is not without mercy. After all, your strawberry-haired friend committed no crime against Guildron. She should not suffer needlessly."
Jack straightened his back. "Just give Kate back and we'll leave."
"How will you leave?" Cera asked.
Jack thought for a moment. Crap.
Their heroic rescue plan had a very serious flaw. Jack had assumed Rufus would figure that out once he regain his magic. But now there was no way of telling when they'd see each other again. Or if.
Cera let Jack dangle in the silence, knowing he was trapped.
"Perhaps he needs further motivation."
Korda's suggestion drew a stern eye from Cera, like a teacher scolding a student, but his tone remained obedient. "What would you suggest, your grace?"
"A reunion."
Cera's scowl softened as he understood Korda's meaning. "Yes, a reunion with an old friend." He snapped his fingers and the knights stepped in close. Korda rose from his throne and descended the dais to join them in a tight formation.
"Await our return," Korda announced as one of the knight took a small bag and held it high.
It had been two years, but Jack remembered to close his eyes and mouth as the sand bag exploded around them. Second later, the wail of the sandstorm was replaced with a chilling silence.
The White Palace's high tower was overcrowded. Since Jack's last visit, hundreds more tables had been added. They were no longer arranged in neat concentric circles but were crammed together with the same grace and consideration of movers filling up a storage unit. On each wooden slab, a magicborn lay, mouth and eyes open in silent agony. Men, women, children, elders. Fine tunics, dressing gowns, military uniforms.
Only the space around the portal was clear. But the portal itself has also changed. The archway was no longer cold dead stone - it pulsed and crackled like the embers of a dying fire. As Jack listened, he realized that the comatose magicborn were breathing as one and with each inhale, the portal would pulse. The portal had a heartbeat. It was a living creature - hibernating but nearly awake.
"Your father thought he was so clever, securing his portal," Cera said, admiring the archway. "But through the brute force of a thousand magicborn slaving their powers to me, I will open it. And I am very close."
"If Talon would only stop robbing us of magicborn." Korda said it as a simple fact but Jack heard a distinct edge to it.
Cera pretended not to notice the King. "You see Jackson, the portal will be opened. My soldiers are scouring the realm, rounding up every last magicborn." He walked to the nearest table and laid a hand on the middle-aged man in a fur overcoat. "Their sacrifice is necessary but you have the power to free everyone in this room. Open the portal and we can return these people to their lives and families."
"Why do you even care so much about this portal?" Jack said, searching for any question to delay the inevitable. "I know what happened. You crossed through it and were never heard from. You clearly didn't arrive on Earth. What happened?"
The knights guarding him shifted their weight, jingling their plate armor. Even Korda, the King, let his eyes wander around the room. Cera turned his own reverent gaze to the portal, his voice distant. "Do you know your father's fatal flaw?"
"N...no," Jack stuttered.
"Hubris," Cera said, still looking at the portal. "We were partners but he always thought himself smarter, more clever. When he built this portal, he thought he had unlocked a secret of the Ancients, something that would change our world. But he reached too far. And I paid for his mistake." Cera finally turned to Jack, his voice somber. "Open the portal, Jackson."
He couldn't delay any more. "I can't. I don't know how."
Korda sighed. "This is pointless. He boy needs motivation."
Cera's face hardened. "Maybe this will motivate him." He walked over to a table at the edge of the circle, blocking Jack's view. The body that lay on the table was small - a young woman.
Kate, Jack thought. But he couldn't see her face.
Cera placed a hand on the magicborn's forehead and the room grew quiet, until Jack could only hear his own heartbeat. Or maybe it was the portal's.
A gasp broke the silence. The body on the table convulsed, its back arching at an unnatural angle before flattening out to a spasm of coughs.
"Welcome back to the living," Cera said without sympathy.
The girl turned over, leaned over the table's edge, her arms shaking, and threw up. Cera stepped away quickly out of concern for his shoes as the girl almost fell off of the table. Ignoring the knights, Jack rushed forward just in time to guide her frail body to the ground, far from the mess she'd made. He brushed a mop of raven hair from her face as her eyes focused on his.
"Jack?" Alba breathed, the word taking all of her energy. "You came back."
"Throw them in a cell," Korda commanded. The knights hesitated, casting sideways glances to Cera.
"Why postpone this?" Cera said, on the cusp of impatience.
"Let him learn the consequences of his actions," Korda said. "And what we do to those who disobey." He looked at the knights. "I command it."
Those words spurred the knights to action and left Cera bristling but he said nothing.
As the knights approached, Jack cradled Alba, who was drifting in and out of consciousness. Long ago, he had stopped imagining what happened to her. The pain of not knowing was too much. But now the answer was curled in his lap, balanced on the knife's edge of life and death. "I'm so sorry."
He said it just as Alba slipped back into unconsciousness.