Chapter Thirty

  Loss

  “You were warned,” Sulivar said.

  Warned? This is what Sulivar wanted her to do. Freya tried to muster a response through the knot in her throat. But what was the point? They were all dead anyway.

  To her surprise, The Duchess answered. “A threat without intention means nothing to me.”

  “You should know me better than that by now.”

  The coins, goblets, and other valuables shifted beneath Freya’s feet, she stumbled onto the bare stone floor. The treasure roared toward the Duchess and a pale Molly like a tsunami. Their shouts fell beneath the wave of grinding metal and jewels. Despite knowing something of Sulivar’s power, despite The Duchess being her enemy, and Molly’s betrayal, the display made Freya feel sorry for them

  “But they are on your side...”

  “What of it?”

  So Sulivar didn’t plant the Duchess here. Or did he do it as a way to build false trust with Freya? What had he called that woman? Jara? His normally calm demeanor was breaking, he couldn’t be that good of an actor could he? Freya’s heart warmed treacherously at the possibility of Sulivar keeping his word.

  It didn’t matter, if he was willing to kill his own people…How could anyone trust someone like that?

  “You’re a monster.”

  Sulivar advanced toward Freya, close enough for her to smell the odd combination of burnt rubber and roses on his coat. He bent down to match Freya’s glare. “You’re welcome.”

  The pile of treasure collapsed, Jara gasped for air, Molly was bent at an odd angle taking horribly short breaths. The unfortunately recent memory of Molly’s lesson on smoke rings tore through Freya’s chest like a knife.

  Why had she done this? Sulivar, paying no mind to his servants, helped a groggy Lorin to his feet. The Paladin’s eyes widened upon realizing who was holding his hand. Thankfully he seemed too shocked to do anything stupid.

  “Don’t you two have a job to finish?”

  Lorin reached for his portal bag as if he was trying to pick up a baby squirrel. Freya followed suit. After another few silent moments they started shoveling everything they could into the bags.

  “No,” Jara’s hands glowed. “I won’t let them do this.”

  Sulivar blurred, the treasure beneath his feet cratered. A fraction of a second later he was across the room with his hand on Jara’s throat.

  “I will not tell you a second time.” He growled the words, the slavic accent he was suppressing came out in force.

  Gone was the smooth bond-villain charm Freya had grown accustomed to. She needed to remember this, the beast he was hiding within. Pained gurgling filled the room. Freya tried to shut it out, this woman had tried to kill her. She would have if Sulivar didn’t step in. But she couldn’t, this wasn’t Freya. Self defense was one thing, but she was not going to listen to someone get strangled to death.

  “Stop.”

  Jara fell into a heap on the ground. Sulivar turned. “You ought to focus on your own problems.”

  Lorin stood up next to Freya, his armor glowed at the perceived threat. He said nothing, but put a hand on her back. They would stand up for what was right, together.

  “Molly isn’t gone, save her.”

  “No,” Sulivar said.

  “Why?”

  Sulivar looked at the shivering form on the ground, his face twisted as if he had just taken a shot of swamp water. “She betrayed you.”

  “And I don’t want her dead.”

  At that Sulivar smiled, a genuine, warm smile. Why? “Remember our agreement?”

  Lorin gave Freya a panicked look, as if he was expecting her to turn on him too. That he would even think that pained her more than she could express. But none of them would have expected Molly to turn either. She would explain this to him later, for now she took his hand in hers.

  “I remember.”

  “This isn’t part of it.” Sulivar stomped down on Molly’s throat, it collapsed with a wet crunch.

  Freya went cold.

  Lorin let out something between a roar and wail. Every suit of armor buried in the treasure rose like zombies clawing out of their graves. There were dozens. Flakes of ashen paper peeled away from him. Freya yanked on his hands with everything she had. He was too strong too move. Even with all that strength he wouldn’t be able to kill Sulivar like this. Freya met Lorin’s eyes. A hollow rage burned within. She didn’t know much about what kind of relationship he had with Molly, but it must have been deeper than she thought.

  “I need you Lore.”

  The legion of armor stopped mid step with a hard clank. Freya squeezed Lorin’s shaking hands, unsure of what else to do. The jingle of coins had him snap toward Sulivar and Jara. They were gone, all that was left at the far end of the vault was the ruin of Molly’s body. At the other end of the vault, the door was open. How had they gotten past them, and opened the door before they could even react? How were they supposed to fight that?

  They would have to figure it out.

  Freya opened her chat window.

  Freya Reed: We are fine. Meet at the extraction.

  She closed the window before the others could respond. She needed a few minutes. Lorin knelt beside Molly’s body and wept. Freya clenched her fists. That tug at the back of her mind, that part of herself that wanted so badly to find some redeeming quality in the Tsar, it was gone, smashed into pulp just like Molly.

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  #

  “You should have told us,” Lorin said, his eyes a whirlpool of judgment and disappointment.

  Seeing him so serious after all his antics had her on the back foot, she didn’t know this version of him. That reaction was expected, of course, but not from Lorin. Of course he would think she should have told them about Sulivar. If she was being honest with herself, she should have.

  “I had to know if there was more to him.”

  “We could have been killed.”

  “Without him we would have been.”

  “Tell that to Molly.” Her name snapped out of Lorin’s mouth like a cobra strike.

  What was Freya supposed to say? Molly had fed Jara every bit of information she needed to destroy them. Were it Lorin dead at Molly’s feet, would she have wrung her hands like he was doing now? Unlikely.

  “She got what she deserved.”

  Lorin clenched his jaw. “I see why the Tsar is so fond of you.”

  Freya winced, why would she say that to him? Freya didn’t want her to die, but she wasn’t heartbroken about it. Or at least she didn’t want to be. Nothing like Lorin. There was something she didn’t understand there, and like usual she let her big mouth in the way of that understanding.

  There was no point in apologizing, was there? Freya simply peeked out the window of the abandoned house that Roman had marked as their meeting point. Isleview reminded her of the recreation of an old colonial American town she had seen with her parents a few years ago. All the buildings were two stories, and very symmetrical. Wood siding was most common, but a few of the larger homes were made of stone.

  Basic appearances were kept up at Roman’s hideaway, the outside was kept clear of any refuse, the greenery was neatly trimmed. But on closer inspection there were signs of his meddling. The wood slat siding was worn down and even rotten in some places. The painted doors were chipped. A thick layer of dust and other grime covered the windows. Freya peeked through the hazy windows, though she wasn’t truly looking at anything. She tried to clear her mind, but failed. This had all become such a mess.

  Inside the building was completely bare save for a pair of simple chairs in front of the fireplace. Lorin leaned against the fireplace, his armor came to rest against the stones with a clunk. He had shut his eyes, was he just trying to avoid looking at Freya? She cursed herself. She really should apologize, the gesture would mean something.

  But before she could, the door swung open. Lorin had his axe in his hand before the figures could step through.

  “Easy there!” Roman said, his hands up in a defensive position.

  Lorin relaxed, but still kept the axe at his side. Freya frowned, he couldn’t trust anyone now. Upon seeing Zora behind Roman he dropped his axe on the floor and grabbed her up in his massive arms. “You made it.” He buried his face in her shoulder.

  “Well hello to you too.”

  Athena squeezed into the room, contorting her body at an uncomfortable angle to avoid the embrace. She was covered in soot from head to toe. Like she had just come out of a coal mine. Her legs wobbled. Freya snatched up one the of the chairs from across the room and dropped it behind her. Athena took the silent command and flopped back into the seat.

  “Where’s…” Roman trailed of at Freya’s grim shake of the head.

  “Molly?” The fatigue fell off of Athena like a crab molting its shell. “How could this happen?” She turned toward Roman. “You said there were hardly any guards here.”

  “I don’t know what changed…”

  “What?” Zora pulled away from Lorin. She looked over the room, like she was counting how many people were here. “Molly?”

  “Gone,” Lorin said.

  All of them deflated, they stood there silently for too long. Freya didn’t want to be insensitive, but they needed to go. The remaining guards may have already realized what happened. And as soon as they did, every building in this town would be getting torn apart.

  Thankfully, Roman spoke first, he drew in a long breath. “Was it painful?”

  Lorin and Freya shared a quick look. Some things would be kept between them.

  “No,” She said.

  “Right.” He cleared his throat, then swung open an old door beside the fireplace.

  The light of Roman’s room at the Mind’s Mirror spilled out into the drab house. The enormous pile of treasure they had collected sat in a clumsy heap in front of the lockers. They all took off their gloves and held hands. The portal would register them as one entity as long as they were touching.

  “Let’s get out of this hellhole.”

  #

  Things had been so simple just a few months ago, then Freya decided to get herself involved with a bunch of freedom fighters. That quiet life in Sarehole seemed so far off at this point.

  Though, she only wanted that quiet life with an asterisk. It was easy to forget that with everything else going on. She had to pound that into her head. This was all so people would remember her, so they would love her.

  Freya slumped against the thick door in her room, she was ready to sleep for a week. Whether that was from the physical or mental strain was hard to tell. Most of the Unbound seemed to feel about the same upon their return.

  For a group that had accomplished everything they wanted, they were certainly dour. Of course they would be, Lorin had insisted they keep Molly’s betrayal and true manner of death secret. It would have hurt them to know the truth, but would it hurt more than thinking they had lost a true friend?

  Damn you Sulivar. It would have been so much more simple to just drag Molly before everyone and make her spill what she had done and why. That was what really gave Freya pause. Molly was more dedicated than anyone else to the Unbound, could it all have been an act? Her brain said yes, but her heart wasn’t so sure. Did they have something on Molly? It was possible. Even Ned Stark betrayed his own ideals when his children were threatened.

  It really didn’t matter did it? She did what she did, and now Freya would have to pick up the pieces.

  Freya groaned as she rose on rubbery legs. Yeah, the physical side had more than a bit to do with her exhaustion. For once, she was looking forward to getting to sleep and returning to the Source. A nice breakfast with her mom and dad sounded incredible after all this bullshit.

  But first, she would take a look at the things she had bought from the market in Caire. Freya dumped out the few items she grabbed from her locker onto the bed. The Carcassonne game had a latch on it that kept it from spilling all over the place. She grabbed that box first, appreciating its heft.

  A quick glance around her room revealed she didn’t actually have anywhere to put it. There was a bed, a desk and an armoire. At least they had given her some actual furniture since the other night. Get some shelves, noted. For now she slid the game under her bed.

  Next were the two books. These were still fascinating to her. One was written in MythHarbor, The Lord of Deliana.

  She turned over the leatherbound book in her hand. What she wouldn’t give for a back cover blurb or something. With all the authors and publishing professionals in the realm, she was kind of surprised they didn’t make sure these books had stuff like that.

  Reading the book was an option, but there was something Freya wanted to do first. She slid The Lord of Deliana under her bed and picked up what she was truly excited about. The Hobbit. Did this make her a bad explorer? She was in a whole new world, and she was picking up a book she had read hundreds of times over something new and fresh. The smile cracking her face told her all she needed to know.

  She opened up the book and took some extra time scrutinizing the first few pages, everything seemed similar enough aside from the copyright page being absent. The book was handwritten in fantastic style. A heat built in her chest as she read the first few lines.

  A shock ran up Freya’s arm from her fingers, she leapt from the bed, wincing as her still sore legs shouted at her. She threw open the shutters on her window. There was no sign of the figure that Sulivar had promised to keep away from her. He was still holding his end of the bargain, for now.

  If it wasn’t that thing…Freya looked back at the book laying on the bed. It had a slight glow to it. Against her better judgment, she picked it back up. The shock returned, but more manageable this time. The words she had read glowed on the page. The feeling running up her arm was familiar, it wasn’t a shock at all, but the power of pages.

  How?

  One word at a time, she kept reading. “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.” She read aloud, hoping that would do something interesting, it didn’t. The words on the page glowed just as they had when she read them in her head.

  Freya reached into the well of power within. It was there, the sentence burned far more intensely than it should have. Different pages and sentences had different strengths, but they were always in the same ballpark. Why was that little bit so much more powerful? It was two, maybe three three times as powerful as it should have been, which meant at the least reading this whole thing would leave her with at least twice the power a whole book would give someone else. She drummed the book with her fingers. Possibilities ran through her mind.

  Suddenly beating Sulivar felt so much more achievable.