Fox curled his shoulders over his chest, shivering. The bleary blue eyes staring at him hardened as rough fingers lifted the blaster from his hand. Despite the raw, unbridled power of Wrath raging through him, the guilt of what he had done was pulled him down. He sunk to his knees, speechless. Defeated.
"See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" Caracal said. "Should have done this weeks ago, lad. Would have saved a lot of trouble."
Fox swallowed repeatedly to push away the tears. He wasn't successful; they kept on pouring. Real men didn't cry—Lord Brandon used to say, and he was right. He was no real man. No, he was a stubborn Foambrain who had caused too many deaths. Katla's death.
"You magicians have always been troublemakers. Cunning, deceiving, and pretending like nothing is ever your fault." Caracal glanced up. "Storm, you traitor, I know it was you aiding the boy." He snapped his fingers, eying the guards. "Seize him."
Loud footsteps pounded behind him.
"I don't think so," Storm said calmly. He snapped his fingers.
The footsteps stopped abruptly.
Caracal lifted a single eyebrow, his mouth slacked open. "I'm not in the mood for this, Storm. Release them."
"They're not being harmed."
Fox turned his head. The two bulky men were running from one end of the throne room to other, hacking and slashing. Yet neither their sword, lance, or iron chain could penetrate the invisible wall. They were on their half. He, Caracal, Storm, Hawk, Cobra, and the new Queen on theirs.
Sweat was pearling on Storm's brow. His age lines were deepening, especially the creases around his mouth as he groaned. The barrier wouldn't hold for long, so what was the Prince waiting for?
"Release them, Ician!" Caracal shouted.
"I don't see why I should."
He shot up from the throne. "Because I will have your guts!"
The blaster remained on the cushion, untouched.
Fox reached for it, not to use it, but to prevent Caracal from being a worse King than he already was.
"Cal!" shouted the new Queen.
Caracal turned around, grinning at him. "Take that blaster, boy. Did you really think I would have let you push that against my head if it had been loaded?"
"It's not loaded?" Fox murmured.
"It'll fire some air at high pressure, the equivalent of a fart in my face." He glanced at Storm, muttering, "Like this whole farce."
Storm's light hair was rapidly turning black as the smaller one of the guards was bashing his chain into the barrier. The clattering sound revealed the hole was getting bigger. Soon, they would come crawling towards them.
"End it now, Ician! Or lose the last ounce of respect I had for you!" Caracal roared.
Storm scoffed. "You never had any."
Fox wiped his cheeks clean. He had to do something, but what? He couldn't use his magic, not with the iron still binding him. No sword at his disposal. The weapon he held was useless.
Unless...
"I can't hold this much longer," Storm yelled. "Hawk, what are you waiting for?"
Hawk shouted back, "I'm not sure if I can do it. My magic is—"
"Now, Hawk."
The Grandmaster curled her hand so her thin fingers resembled a claw. As she twirled it, Caracal's eyes widened. He clutched his throat, gasping, wheezing as he struggled to talk.
Fox set the blaster to his wrist, then pulled the trigger. A dull, stabbing-like pain shot out. It faded as the shackles clanked to the floor a heartbeat later. Three to go, and no time to lose. One of the guards was pulling the other through the hole they had hacked in the invisible wall.
Storm groaned. He swept a wave of cold air towards them, flinging the men fifty feet away.
Fox blasted off one side of his fetters, then aimed the weapon at the other side. He stopped, distracted by gurgling noises.
Slimy foam was dripping from the corners of Caracal's mouth. The veins in his face were popping out. His eyes reddened. Moaning, he was scratching at his skin.
"What's that—a confession?" Hawk asked. She was breathing heavily. Half of her long black hair had already turned red.
Caracal shook his head wildly.
Hawk moved her head in a small circle, her eyes closed. She was inside his head. "Liar, you horrible-horrible pig of a man. Speak so I'm no longer the only person in this room disgusted by you."
The new Queen squealed as Hawk released her grip on Caracal. He coughed and spat, his voice raw as he hung over his throne. "I should have you all hanged and decapitated!"
"Get off that high horse, Son of Greed."
"That's my husband you're talking about, Enchantress," the new Queen shouted.
"And you've hated him your entire marriage, Starling. Haven't you?" Queen Cobra said. She stepped from behind the throne and moved to the front. "For twenty years, you said nothing or did nothing except pretend to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother. Shall I pour you a glass of wine so you remain silent for the next two minutes of your life?"
"What is she talking about?" Starling asked Caracal. She put her hand out at the guards approaching them. They halted.
"Thoughts about Fe... what he did." Panting, Hawk yanked the grunting King up. "Speak!"
Caracal ran the back of his hand over his mouth, eyeing the Grandmaster. "Thoughts are treacherous, Grandmaster. You can think a million things yet take but one action."
"I can tell what's a memory and what's not."
"Felix was gravely injured—he died, and that is—"
"Your doing," Storm interrupted him. "I knew it. The boy's wounds were bad, but Ariel protected him from the lethal ones. I examined him myself, helped him heal. He should have lived, should have been King in all but name. But I guess being Regent wasn't enough, was it, Caracal? You played God and orchestrated the Prince's unexpected and untimely death."
Caracal motioned dismissively. "Unexpected deaths always hit the hardest."
"Especially those smelling too sweetly."
"Poison is a woman's weapon." He glanced at Queen Cobra.
She snapped, "I would never kill my son."
"So you admit that the boy was poisoned." Hawk stood ready to snap her fingers.
"What?" Fox gritted his teeth.
Caracal held his hands up. "Just guessing. Somebody wanted me to be King instead of the brat."
"You did it." Hawk's chest hitched. "You're thinking right now that you freed Fe from his weakness the same way you helped free Katla from his. You gave Katla the orders to die."
"It's rude—"
"Rude to be in someone's head?" Hawk rose her claw.
Less than a beat later, the false King was gasping for air once more. His mouth filled with foamy saliva. He pounded his fist on the throne's armrest, burbling, choking.
Fox clenched and unclenched his hands, wishing the blaster had contained an actual bullet. This time he would not hesitate to shoot the greedy murderer to the Seven Hells. Katla hadn't been weak; he was the strongest man he had ever known. And Caracal had sent him to his grave.
"Tell me what he's thinking right now," Fox said to Hawk.
"You don't want to know."
"I do. Tell me."
"Fox, you're—"
"Too young?" His nostrils flared. "Stop protecting me. I already know things I wish I could forget. I do want to know his thoughts."
Hawk's hair reddened further as she coiled her head. "Caracal wanted to separate you from your master to make you his. I see a memory of him threatening to torture you if Katla refused." She winced, frowning. "He also... there's more... He was the one who told Felix to give his brother a good shove next time Wolf was annoying him. No... no... that bastard sent my Wolf to the river, knowing very well what was down there and how obsessed you boys were by that sword. Because of his words, his actions, my son is dead. Wolf, Ariel, Panthera, Felix, Katla—their blood on his hands."
"Murderer," Queen Cobra said through her teeth. A single tear ran down her porcelain face. "You yellow-faced son of Sin. End him, Hawk. Make him pay for the death of our children, of the men we loved."
Fox felt his blood pounding against his burning skin. Not only had he sent Wolf to the cave, he had also sent Katla to Sundale to die.
Death followed where Caracal went, and now he had to pay.
Fox set the blaster to his neck and shot at the iron ring. There came a clunk, the same dull ache that faded instantly. Then nothing.
Realising he hadn't worked the chain around his neck as often as his shackles and fetters, he shot again.
No luck—the iron stayed put.
"Come on, Heavenly Halls," Fox called the seven Gods of Virtue.
His heart hammered through his entire body, his magic coursing with intense heat. He set his hands to the ring, sparks sizzling then spluttering. He wanted to melt the skin off Caracal's bones, watch as the man fell forward and never got up again. This time he wouldn't hesitate.
Hawk gesticulated at the guards. "Free him."
Neither of the men moved. Then the taller one took a step and was immediately silenced by Caracal groaning, clobbering and battering with feet and fists against anything in his vicinity.
"... head up your asses," the false King squeaked.
As the last black strands of Hawk's hair turned red, the gurgling gradually lessened. Caracal was uttering something between a pant and laughter.
The smaller of the two guards threw his chain around Storm. Fox ducked just in time to avoid the bigger one from doing the same to him. With two hands and two feet freed from the iron, he did have a shot at magic. One chance, maybe, and not very strong either.
Whatever he did, he had to make it count.
He threw the blaster towards the guard's feet, startling him. As the man leapt away from it, the pommel of his sword was free.
Fox stretched his arm, calling the weapon to his hand. He could feel the presence of Katla's ghost, giving him the strength he needed. Just the way Storm had taught him, the blade unsheathed itself, then soared across the room towards him.
Mid-air, he cupped both hands around the grip. "May you burn in the seven hells for all eternity."
The rage of ten thousand fire-breathing dragons burned through him as he swung the sword with all his might towards Caracal.
For a split moment, flames erupted on the metal.
Fox closed his eyes as a blinding aura of green surrounded him. The blade sliced through skin and bones. There was loud screaming. Someone tugged at him as hot liquid splattered all over his face.
A thump.
Caracal's head severed from his body had landed on the floor.
"Hands off him," Queen Cobra said firmly to whoever was holding him.
Thick, hairy arms released him. Queen Starling was sobbing.
"Remove the shackle around his neck," she said firmly.
Something clicked, then a weight left his collarbone. He opened his eyes. Dropping the sword, he stared at the carnage. He felt hot and cold at the same time, like a fever had come down on him.
Caracal's sprawled body still clothed in a grey flowing robe was quickly getting drenched in blood. The red liquid spread across the carpet, darkening it. Smears on the silver throne. On Hawk and Storm.
"I had to do it. He had to die," Fox murmured.
"Yeah," Storm said. "Good sword work. You master would have been proud."
"He would have."
Fox's vision blurred as the pain of missing Katla struck him hard. Instead of tears, a spike of energy shot through him. His limbs moved on their own as a rapid blaze seared through his veins. His cheeks glowed. He yelped.
The eyes of his fox pendant emitted a green light.
Out of nowhere, without even thinking of fire, flames shot up from the palms of his hands, through the leather of his shoes, onto the carpet.
"What's happening to me?" he cried. "Stop, fire, stop!"
For the first time in his life, the flames didn't obey.
People were talking, but he couldn't hear them. Holes appeared in the fabric of his shirt, his pants. His skin was burning with all the wrath the iron had contained.
Help me! He wanted to shout. Instead of words, smoke and fire leapt out of his mouth. Katla would have known what to do. His master knew everything.
Except, Katla had taught him.
Leaving scorching black marks, Fox's feet already started running. Every winter, when his master's magic became unstable and he could no longer control it, he fled to the woods outside the city to burn trees instead of people. That was where he had to go.
Another thought struck him. There was a spot closer to the castle where nobody lived and where he couldn't harm anyone. The cottage.
Katla was dead. The house was no longer his home, and even if Hawk or Storm allowed him to live there, he didn't want it. Too many memories, now too painful to even consider. The light that was him brightened. Katla's pillow and blankets would still smell of him. His drawings on the plank. The wine bottles he kept unopened until Fox was asleep. At least, until he thought Fox was asleep.
He would burn it all.
It was better this way too. Easier to stop the pain when there was nothing of Katla left. Then he could pretend the time he had spent with his master had been a pleasant dream that had turned into a nightmare right before he had woken up.
Fox couldn't see much, but he did see the light reflecting in dimmed armour. The silhouettes scampered away from him. Some even turned around and ran the other way. He didn't want to frighten them. If he could talk, he would tell them exactly that. He may have killed the false King, but he was no murderer.
Then why did he still feel the power of Wrath on him? Stones clattered down. The wood sunk beneath his blazing feet. Once upon a time, he would have fallen onto his face like a clumsy buffoon. Now he sliced through the floor like a hot knife through melting butter.
Alex, Seb, and Nick would no longer laugh at him if they could see him now. He was more powerful than all three combined. Pride must have possessed them when they had shot those arrows through Katla. Caracal hadn't mentioned Nick, but Fox was sure the plump know-it-all was there too. Their friendship had already long been over. They were dead to him.
He could no longer contain the magic coursing through him. Flames was he, and he was flames. His brother's throne would be his. He was going to be King, and those who had harmed Katla would rue the day they had laid a finger on him.
Maybe not now, or in a moon, or a year. But should watch their back—one day he would be standing there to take what they took from him.
A voice called out to him, soft, motherly.
He stopped to shout at her, to tell the voice to get away from him and leave him alone.
Cool, tender fingers touched his scorching skin. They pulled him back.
He flinched. Yet before he could say or do anything, she wrapped her arms around him, dousing his fire with her water. A mist of steam surrounded them, calming, soothing.
"Am I your prisoner now?" he asked.
"You're nobody's prisoner," she whispered. "It will be alright."
"It won't." He could talk again, and with it returned the tears. "I'm tired of getting hurt while I'm being tossed around in this game I don't understand. I no longer want to feel this way."
"Hush, you can have everything you want."
"Then I want Katla."
Her hands cupped his face, her thumbs easing the burn wounds on his cheeks. A pair of green eyes he had once thought of as snake-like, deceitful. Hawk was not.
"If magic could do that, I would," she said. "I can give you everything, but I can't give you that. I'm sorry."
"Don't say that," he squeaked. "I don't want pity."
"Then what do you want?"
Fox thought for a while, then he said, "I'm strong, but I want to get stronger. You and Storm—you can train me to become the best magician-warrior that ever lived. And when I am... I'm going south. For revenge. For my throne. I want to be my own King, with your support."
"We can arrange that. I'll teach you everything I know."
"But not as your apprentice. You're my grandmaster, not my master. Only Katla ever was."
She nodded in understanding.
Storm kneeled by his side. "Everything alright?"
"Not really." Fox whimpered. "But I'll be fine."
Queen Cobra was standing behind him, her hand on his shoulder. Once more, Fox reminded what Leo had told him. The ties to the other royal houses Storm had, as well as his feelings for the Queen. The real Queen.
"Do you love her?" Fox asked Storm.
The Ician Prince glanced at the Queen. There were sparks in his eyes. "Yeah, I love her very much."
"Marry her. Then send ravens north and south for your father and sister to recognise your power. You must be King of Silvermark."
Storm sucked in a deep breath. His hair coloured salt-and-pepper once more. "So I have your blessing to usurp the silver throne, Lord Fox?"
"You might need a new one." Fox puckered his lips, wiping his foot over the smouldering wooden piece that used to be the floor. "And fix some other things. I made a mess."
Storm lightly touched Fox's bare shoulder. "I have funds in Ice I can free up to restore this place. No man, woman, or child must slave for my comfort. Those fit to work will get properly paid."
"I like that," Fox said. "I'll help too... when I'm not training with you."
"And at night—where will you make your bed?"
"The Antler," he said without sparing it a thought.
"Good idea, stay close to the people. You can tell me what I'm doing wrong," Storm said, chuckling.
"I will."
"We must spread the word," Hawk said. "But what will we say? The other four kingdoms must know what happened here."
Queen Cobra grabbed Storm's hand. "Out of the ashes of the lion, the tower rises."
"The reign of magicians has begun."