Sovereign - The Dark Sorcerers: Book 2

Chapter 13: A World of Royalty and Scum

Rowan

Not even the strong smell of salt, a smell I had always associated with the Capital, could chase away the flakes of ashes that seemed to have gotten stuck in my nose after we had burned Anthony's body. Worse, even, was that Larry's pained moans and raging fever, combined with the unconscious Sorceress who rested in the General's arms, constantly reminded me of what had happened.

I felt like a failure.

The five of us had been on the same team for almost six years, and now its members had been reduced to four. We had only our own lack of attentiveness to blame for that. Once again, the Sorcerers had been proven right in their statements that non-magical humans could never pose a real threat to them. Even the General had unconsciously been enchanted by the Siren's Song.

The guilt weighed on all of us, but on me the most. I was Anthony's captain; I was the one who had insisted on bringing the Dwarfs along. And now one person was dead, another severely wounded, and to top it all off, we enjoyed the silent company of a Dark Sorceress whom I'd taken into custody on a whim. One night, when we had stopped to eat and catch up on sleep, the General had put a hand on my shoulder and told me that this was what a soldier's life looked like. Some died; some lived. Was it fair? No. But we had to move on.

Easier said than done when the deceased had been a friend of yours for more than a decade.

Salty drops of rain fell from the sky as our company rode through the Capital's scarlet red gate, the giant, gold doorknobs on each door gleaming like two separate suns despite the dark clouds amassing on the horizon. The last time I had stayed in this city for a mission, I had been a twenty-one-year-old, recently promoted captain with no other concerns on his mind but the successful completion of his mission and the warmth of a female body to keep him company at night. Only two years had passed since then, and although the city hadn't changed a bit, stagnated in time, the captain had.

The Royal Palace was situated on the highest of three hills on which the Capital had been built. The ocean blue tiles on the many spires rose higher than any other building, a landmark to orient yourself in the broad commercial streets and narrow, maze-like alleys that crawled all over the city. And that was just the surface; an entire network of shady corridors and black markets flourished beneath our feet, accessible through various secret passages hidden in plain sight. My work for the Academy had taken me to that underground world several times, although I'd always been glad to feel the sun on my face again after spending too much time there.

The Buried City was not a good place for the faint of heart.

Citizens stared, waved or spat at us while we passed through the streets, their reaction to our uniforms depending on their own professions. A single glare from General Waters sufficed to silence the more rowdy onlookers, but none of us paid any attention to the occasional insults thrown at our heads. Enforcing the law had its pros and cons, and it didn't always make you popular.

Although the General was a regular visitor at the Palace, the guards at the gate still asked for identification. Respecting the protocol, I allowed one of them to search my saddlebag while the other inspected the documents the General had given him. "Welcome to the Capital, General Waters," the guard said, giving the other man a courteous nod. "This paperwork looks fine to me. One of your lieutenants seems to be missing, though ... Anthony Hamal?"

My stomach churned.

"Lieutenant Hamal was killed in an ambush a few days ago," the General declared, his tone filled with regret.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, sir." Leaning slightly aside, the guard peeked at the woman sitting in the General's lap, one of his arms clasped firmly around her waist so that she wouldn't fall off the horse. "Did she have something to do with it? She isn't on the list."