Escape: The Seam Travelers Book One Read online

  Samuel had just taken a bite of a piece of bacon when his phone rang. He dropped his fork with a clatter on the plate and snatched up his phone.

  “What news?” He listened. Then said, “I’m on my way.” He stood. “Nordon, you’re in charge. Do not leave the house and don’t let anyone in other than the people you’ve met here. Mathu, we need to go.”

  Mathu jammed three pieces of bacon into his mouth and rose. They hustled out the door and to the van. They arrived in record time. No sooner had the van pulled to the curb, then Trenton ran from the parking garage with a young girl in his arms. Deardon followed, his arm around a tall woman.

  They hopped into the back of the van and Mathu had it moving before everyone had settled into a seat. Trenton handed the princess to the woman and pulled his weapon from the shoulder holster he wore.

  Samuel said, “Is that it? No King or Queen?”

  “No, sir. When they came through, Phetrx said, ‘The castle is lost and the KIng and Queen have vanished.’”

  Samuel sighed and faced the front. If the King and Queen had vanished, perhaps they escaped. There would be word if they had been captured by Mortas Frost. And everyone would know if they had been killed. Well, nothing they could do about it. They had the prince and princess. It was his job to make sure they survived and grew to an age where they could lead a rebellion.

  “Take us to the second house. I don’t want them living together.”

  He had much to do. He needed Id’s for the kids and their guardians. They would need a crash course on survival skills for this world. He needed to set the magical wards that would keep them hidden from any who might follow and just so many more details. But he was good at details. It was one of the reasons he’d thrived in a world so beyond his imagination as to never have been a notion.

  Samuel would see to everything and when they were ready, he would lead the prince and princess back to their world to reclaim the throne. It was only going to take time and that, thanks to the efforts of Phetrix, they now had.

  Six

  PHETRIX SCOURED THE castle, losing hope of ever finding Elysande. He feared she might be dead. Dead royal soldiers lay in heaps at nearly every turn. Smoke wafted through the corridors. Mortas brought death in his wake and if that little girl was caught in it, Phetrix was prepared to cross the seam and share the word with Samuel himself. At least Erthic was safe, as far as he knew.

  Phetrix turned a corner near the kitchens and listened as he thought he heard a faint sound.

  “Ely? Ely is that you dear?” He drew on his power, ready to unleash it on any enemy soldier that might have the unfortunate distinction of harming the girl.

  Shouting men from his left startled him, but they were too far off for the moment.

  “Ely? Come out dear. It’s me, Phetrix. I can take you to your brother.” He waited, listening for the sound he heard moments earlier.

  The shouting soldiers seemed to be closer, their voices carrying a touch of mirth. He slipped into the kitchen hoping to avoid detection, unsure how large a group was headed his way.

  Hope waned.

  Then, he heard it again and it was nearby.

  Opening every cabinet and every scorched door, he moved silently throughout the kitchen. The place had been burnt in the attack the previous night and looted already. Pots and pans were tossed about the kitchen, a mess the cook would never have allowed to happen had she been there . . . and alive.

  Then he found her.

  He heard her crying softly and followed the sound to a slightly tilted cupboard door.

  “My dear, I’ve found you!” he said when he opened the door to the hysterical child inside. “Come, I can save you yet.” He reached his hand out to her and at first she slapped it away, then realizing who he was, she accepted it. “That’s it Ely. Hurry, your brother awaits.” She crawled out from the cupboard and clung to him.

  The soldiers seemed to have passed as their voices carried toward him from the opposite direction he heard earlier. Carefully, they left the kitchen when they heard a woman’s scream from another room.

  “Quiet Ely, I need to check on this.”

  He considered leaving the girl, whoever it was, but her screams called to him. If she were in trouble, he had to do something. He left Mortas’ service because of horrific actions like this. Now was the moment to act, even if it meant putting the princess in harm’s way.

  Channeling a small stream of power, Phetrix turned to Ely. “Stay here. Watch me, but stay here. Got it?” The girl crossed her arms and scowled. It would have to do.

  Phetrix crept closer to the open door and peered inside to see a servant girl being fondled by one of Mortas’ soldiers.

  “Come on wench, stop yer fighting,” the man said. Phetrix noticed the black armored man’s sword in its scabbard still attached to his belt lying on the floor. His pants were around his ankles.

  “Your gonna die soon anyway, so, why are ya giving me a hard time?”

  That was enough. Phetrix let loose a tiny bolt of light. It was dark purple and bore through the soldier, melting a hole in his armor and coming out the other side. He turned to look at the hole now punched through him, and fell down on the girl. The servant screamed when the dead man fell on her.

  She cried, thrashing until the lifeless man fell off her. That’s when Phetrix realized who it was.

  “Alyanna? Alyanna, you’re safe!” he said.

  “Phetrix?” she asked, wiping her eyes. “You have the princess!”

  Elysande ran to her, a woman she’d known since birth.

  “Alyanna, you’ve been around the children since early on, right?”

  She nodded as she wiped at the tears on her face. The man had ripped her tunic and was trying to grope her when Phetrix came upon them. Fortunately he did, as it presented a new opportunity for him.

  “I was their first nanny. I’m still one of many that help raise them.” She squeezed Ely, her arms clinging tight to the girl. Watching Ely’s face light up within Alyanna’s grasp, he knew it could work.

  “I don’t have much time. The castle is in ruins and the King and Queen are missing. I need a favor.” He wrung his hands. He was taking a massive risk with the child, but he had little recourse left. Erthic had already been sent through the seam and should be with Samuel by now. He had to send Ely through as well. It was the only way he could think of to save her.

  “I need you to flee with her. Now.” It wasn’t ideal, but he trusted Alyanna and more importantly, so did Ely. He could only hope they connected with Samuel and eventually Erthic when they got to the other side. He had no time to train her in the ways of the new world and she’d have to cope with the massive change as best she could. It was far too late for a different plan.

  Phetrix didn’t wait for her reply, but instead spoke the words that created the seam. The white light illuminated the room.

  “What is this?” Alyanna asked.

  “Your salvation. It’s the only way out. You’ll never leave the castle alive if you don’t go through. Mortas’ men are everywhere. They searching for her,” he said pointing at Ely, “and if what just happened to you by that solider is any indication, it is quite likely more will try and do the same. Mortas encourages that kind of behavior. You’ll be safe. Take Elysande. Erthic is already there. He’s with Nadron and Nadina. Find Samuel and live. Hurry, before more of them come.”

  Elyande tugged at Alyanna. “Brother,” she said.

  Men shouted in the corridor outside. “Hurry Belam! We want our turn with her too!”

  “Go now!” Phetrix urged. Alyanna looked to the door and then to the light.

  “But, I don’t know—“

  “Now!” Phetrix pleaded with her. Elysande held her hand tight, urging her forward. Then, the princess stepped through the light and Alyanna reluctantly followed.

  Seven

  MORTAS FROST SAT ATOP a black steed overlooking the burning valley below. A wicked grin flashed across his face.

  “Wel
l done,” he said to himself. “Well done indeed.”

  In the midst of the valley lay the remains of King Artus’s castle. It would have been better to secure it instead of razing it, but he wanted the people to know who was now in charge.

  Somehow, that mage Phetrix had whisked the children away, but they’d be found sooner or later. He’d dedicate as many resources as needed to find them. As long they lived, his reign would be threatened. And he wasn’t accustomed to that.

  A horse drew up behind him and a young soldier dropped from the saddle, kneeling on the ground. Mortas waved his hand upward for the man to stand.

  “Sir, the royal family is missing. We’ve yet to find them.”

  Mortas’ anger flared. He reared his horse, and the animal brought its hooves down inches from the frightened man’s head.

  “I will not tolerate incompetence. Locate the family and bring them to me. Failure to do so will not end well for you.”

  “Yes sir.” On shaky legs, the soldier climbed back atop his own horse and raced toward the main camp.

  “They must be found at all costs. I cannot have them running around alive, offering hope when there is none to be had.” He patted his horse and turned from the ledge, satisfied at the destruction below.

  SEVERAL DAYS PASSED and still no word on the family. Mortas had executed three soldiers who dared tell him the family could not be found. His patience was gone, replaced by an unending foul mood that had everyone scampering from his path. Further delays were not acceptable.

  Mortas rested inside the massive tent in the center of the camp. His men were securing the kingdom and scouting for a suitable location to build his grand castle.

  “Sir, your mage approaches,” a guard at the tent door called inside.

  “Good! I’ve had need of Rhoden Noster.”

  Mortas sat up and adjusted his shirt, buttoning it closed after his serving girl had unfastened it earlier. Rhoden pushed aside the tent flap.

  “My liege, may I come in?”

  “Rhoden! Come, come. It’s been too long. What word do you bring?”

  “I’ve come about the family.”

  “Of course you have. Please, have a seat.” Mortas motioned to a small stool in the corner.

  “Now. What about them?”

  Rhoden fidgeted, intertwining his fingers together. “Sir,” he began, “I have interviewed both our soldiers and various members of King Atrus’ staff when they were taken prisoner. There was much smoke and confusion, but from the information I gathered, I have reason to believe Phetrix used a spell unknown to most like me. It’s a spell only the most powerful can replicate.”

  “So? What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Everything, sir. I believe he used it while in the castle to whisk away the children.”

  “To where? What proof do you have for this claim?” Mortas dragged a stool in front of Rhoden and sat, leaning closer with his hands on his knees.

  “Where? I don’t exactly know, sir. It’s hard to explain. My old master Samuel knew of such powerful magic. It’s called traveling magic. He tried to teach me once, but I got bored of his ramblings and never paid much attention. I preferred more aggressive forms of my art. But from what the soldiers described of the incident, I feel certain that’s the spell Phetrix used.”

  “Well, what does it do?”

  “It opens a portal, sir. A passageway to another world.”

  Mortas stood and circled around the tent. “Another world? What kind of nonsense are you speaking?”

  “None, sir. It’s a powerful spell known only by a select group of mage’s. Most of them long dead.

  “It is an ancient art form with its roots in the very creation of our world. At least that is what I’ve been told.”

  “What is this other world? Where is it? If he took the children there, we must track them and end this.”

  “I agree, sir. However—“

  “However what?” Mortas growled.

  “No mage known can do such a thing.”

  “You mean other than Phetrix?”

  Rhoden hung his head. “Correct, sir. I know if I had the time, I’d be able to learn it. My powers are stronger than Phetrix’s.”

  Mortas rushed to the mage and leaned in close, his finger pressing against his chest. “Do not fail me in this! Finding those children is paramount. Do you understand me?”

  “Of course, sir. Your victory will be secure when we do. I realize the importance of this. I shall discover this spell and we will soon have the power to find them.”

  “I expect victory, Rhoden. Nothing less.”

  The mage stood, bowed, and left the tent. Mortas paced around the tent with his hands clasped behind his back.

  They scoured the castle after taking it and there was no sign of the children or Phetrix. Artus and his nagging wife were missing as well. Most likely they were in hiding, though they’d never outlast his desire to seek them out. He hoped they’d be found alive so he could make a vivid example of them with a public execution. His hold on the kingdom would only be strengthened by it.

  “One day, all of this will be mine. No one will dare oppose me, not when I rid this land of that foul family. Soon. Very soon my hold will be complete.”

  Eight

  FIFTEEN YEARS LATER

  With a simultaneous burst, they sat bolt upright in the bed, a mix of shock and fear playing across their faces.

  “Oh, God!” she said. “They found us.”

  Intermittent amber lights flashed in their room. A magically enhanced alarm tone, unheard anywhere else in the house, beeped in frenzied repetition. After all this time, the enemy had found them.

  “Check the monitors,” the large, balding man said. “I'll see to the boy.”

  They started to move, but the man grabbed her arm and held tight. “Nadina,” he said in a firm voice. “Remember our mission and your training.”

  Her face relaxed. The worry wrinkles along her forehead and temples, disappeared. As if by magic, a different woman gazed back. A look of control and power filled her now narrowed eyes. He gave a reassuring squeeze and let go. She nodded, rolled off the bed and disappeared beneath. When she reappeared, she held a short sword and an Uzi—a modern medieval warrior ready for battle. He stood and armed himself with a weapon large enough to need both hands to hold. However, his well-muscled arms held it outward in one steel-gripped fist.

  He did not know the proper name for the massive gun. It had been given to him years ago for just such a purpose. It shot 7.62 caliber rounds out of one barrel, shotgun shells out of another and an experimental, heat seeking grenade from a third. When asked questions about the weapon, the man who gave it to him said, “The bullets go in there, there and there and come out here, here and here. That's all you need to know.”

  He left the room and Dina raced toward the bedroom closet. She opened the door and shoved the hangers aside, revealing a second door. This one led to the walk-up attic. She entered and climbed the stairs. The attic featured an assortment of monitors, electronics, weapons and storage trunks.

  She pushed a button on a console, shutting down the alarm, then examined the four small monitors. Each one showed dark, infrared images from the four directions of the house. At the moment, no pictures were displayed. Each screen showed only the empty, dark night.

  A tiny red light pulsed on the monitor responsible for the alarm. Dina tapped a few keys on the portable board in front of that monitor and sent the picture to a larger, central screen. She leaned close, but no matter how hard she strained to see, no threat appeared. A few more key strokes and the pictures ran in reverse. She guessed at the amount of time passed since the alarm sounded, then switched to forward. The recorded scene began to play.

  Two minutes later, the reason for the triggered alarm came into view. The sight unnerved her enough to seek the support of a chair. The ghostly image of a seeker floated past, ten feet above the roof lines of the neighborhood houses. “Oh, saints preserve us.”
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  As she studied the image, her fingers caressed the gun like it was a support animal. She’d only heard of such things, being told stories in her youth but she always thought they were tales made up to scare children into good behavior. Now, she knew those tales were real. After fifteen years of peace, those who searched for them had found an opening into this world. Dina watched the replay through once, then rewound it and scanned again. The seeker, part creature, part spirit, floated past without paying attention to their house. It would be tuned to the special frequency the boy emanated, but wards had been set to prevent that from happening. They appeared to be working, but wait. Was that a hesitation?

  With nimble fingers, she reset the recording and ran it through again, then enhanced and enlarged the image and played it in slow motion. Yes, right there. The seeker turned its horrendous head toward the house, pausing for just an instant in its methodical side-to-side sweep. Whatever it felt had not been sufficient to warrant a closer look, but it had sensed something. Samuel, the contact for this world, had to be notified. The enemy had entered this world and was actively searching for the ward they had been entrusted to protect.

  Dina set the weapons down and reached for the dedicated encrypted radio, surprised to find her hand shook. She pulled it back, cupped it in the other hand and said a quick prayer to buoy her courage. She did not have to dial, punch in, or speak a number. Once the headset was lifted from its cradle, the call was activated.

  A voice on the other end, said, “Yes?”

  “They're here.”

  Silence weighed heavy on the other end. “You know what to do. I'll be in touch.” The disconnect had an eerie finality to it. Dina set the handset down gently, released the breath she'd been unaware she held, and got up.

  Downstairs she found Nordon, in front of the boy's bedroom door, a lethal protector, ready to give his life for his charge. He tensed when she appeared, an unspoken question in the one lifted eyebrow. She nodded. Her body deflated. She leaned forward, placing her head against his massive chest. “Oh, Nordon, what are we going to do?”