Dream Drive Ch. 08

You have created a Bond.

A pledge of full loyalty between yourself and another party activates a Bond. You are capable of sustaining up to five Bonds simultaneously.

A bond transfers power between both the Bonder, and Bonded. The Bonded gains the strength of the star-marked; the Bonder accrues new powers based on the traits of the Bonded.

A Bond can only be broken by death.

Choose a point upon which to place this Bond. The point represents an affiliation that will grant a boon to the Bonded. Only one bond can be attached to each point.

If you do not wish to create a Bond at this time, exit the menu.

A pentagram blipped into Charles's view. Each point of the black star was labeled in red.

The Sunrise

The North Star

The Abyss

The Legion

The Fall

Charles pursed his lips, considering. "Let's try the Legion. Sounds rather imperial." He tapped it.

Are you sure you wish to make this Bond using the might of the Legion?

Yes

No

"Yes," Charles said.

"What do those have to do wi -"

The pentagram on Ellesmere's hand flared like a lightbulb. It grew brighter, then brighter still, until the whole room was scored in lines of blinding white and shadows like coal. Charles shielded his eyes.

The light vanished.

Charles blinked. A pentagram-shaped spot hovered in his vision. He glanced at Ellesmere, who was lowering her arms. "How do you feel?"

She looked at the back of her hand, turning it over. In contrast to Charles's twisted scar, her pentagram was a neat black tattoo. "I...I don't know." She licked her lips. "It still hurts."

"Look up, to the left. Do you see a bar?"

"Yes. It's blue."

"What about above that?"

She squinted. "I think...there's the outline of another one. But it's empty."

"Stay here," Charles said. "I'm going to get some food."

"Food? Now isn't the time for -"

"Shh," Charles said. "There might be people. Rest."

Charles stood, then stopped. More screens popped up in front of him, one after another. He scanned across them.

You have created a Bond with Ellesmere Kalgradis, the Destined Empress (Level 3)

Bond Benefits

10% Increase to Compulsion

5% Increase to Spirit

1 Additional Word Slot

Might of the Legion

Ellesmere learns weapon skills at a rapid pace. After Capping an Advanced-tier passive skill in a given weapon group, she can freely pass basic versions of corresponding weapon skills to others.

Bond of Contractual Employment

Charles receives a mutually agreed to percentage of the essence from enemies Ellesmere slays.

"What is all that?" Ellesmere said. "What does it mean?"

"It means a lot," Charles said. "Wait here."

Charles glanced at the boy he'd knocked out - kid was still out cold. He cracked open the door of the storeroom and peered into the kitchens.

The space was divided in the middle by a long counter. A stacked cluster of iron ovens sat in one corner, still radiating heat from earlier use. Every flat surface was covered with dirty bowls, cutlery, or half-prepared food. They'd abandoned the place in the middle of work.

Charles moved out and grabbed a spare bowl. He lifted a loaf of bread off the counter and took a healthy bite. It was good - still fresh.

Charles's heath bar blinked. He gained a few more points of health - perhaps 2 or 3.

Ideally, he'd rest on the floor until his health fully recovered. That would take several minutes he didn't want to spare, but there was an alternative way to heal - food. Gary saves the day again. At least the fat-ass was good for something.

Charles snatched up fruits, vegetables, and a few more rolls, loading the basket to the brim. He carried his bounty back to the storage room, then plopped down in front of Ellesmere. "Do you like tomatoes?"

She made a shrug. "I guess. You know, I don't think it hurts as bad as it did. But there's this strange picture under the bars - I touched it. It says I'm bleeding."

He shoved a tomato in her face. "Eat it."

"I'm not really hun -"

"Did I stutter?"

Ellesmere gave him a fierce warning look, then took a dainty bite of the tomato. She swallowed, then stiffened up. Her mouth opened slightly. "I feel...better. The bar - it's red. But..."

"But what?"

"It's draining back down."

"That bleeding thing must be another status effect," Charles reasoned. "Morgan mentioned a few of them. It should fade if you keep eating." He pushed the basket in her lap. "Don't be shy."

And then they wolfed down the food together - the leader of a financial empire and the would-be empress of Four Kingdoms, stuffing their faces in the corner of a musty storehouse. The sounds of munching and crunching filled the room as they tore into hunks of bread and chewed on sliced carrots.

Charles burped and sat back. His health wasn't quite full, but his stomach was too-full. He couldn't eat another bite if he tried.

Ellesmere poked at her midsection, near the tear in her dress. "It's...it's just gone. It's gone." She stood. "I'm fine. I'm better than fine. I'm alive!" She twirled in a circle. Her singed and frayed ballroom grown spun out at her heels. She tossed her head back and gave a giddy laugh, then swayed, slightly off-balance. She put a hand on the wall. "I'm too stuffed to dance about it." She made a strange face, and then burped. She blushed furiously. "Excuse me."

Charles hoisted himself off the floor, grunting. "I'm headed west. Are you coming?"

"You were right," Ellesmere said. "I thought Gerod - well, I knew I annoyed him somewhat, but I didn't know it was like that. That deep." Her expression fell somber. "I didn't know he hated me."

"Maybe that's why the emperor made him your knight," Charles said. "Kept a loyal hand close - someone you didn't get along with - just in case you needed to be dealt with."

Ellesmere put her hands on her face. "I - this is so much to take in. Back in the tower, I thought you were just trying to get under my skin. Everything you said came true. It's like you're some kind of prophet."

Charles kept his smile pinned to his face. "We need to leave, Princess."

"But how can we leave like this?" she asked. "We have to set things right. I am of the imperial line. My place is here, I can't just -"

"You never had a place," Charles said. "That was an illusion. The only place you can call your own is the one you make yourself." He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Your Highness - Ellesmere. Live today. Fight tomorrow."

"But..."

"No buts," Charles said. "Is there anything you really can't leave behind? Anyone you must say goodbye to?"

Ellesmere wrapped herself with her arms. Her lips trembled. "My younger brothers...they don't need to see this."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"Who are you?" she asked. "Why are you here?"

"I'll explain on the way," Charles said. "It's complicated, but I'm here about a personal matter."

"No," she said. She stepped back, brushing his hand away. "I can't believe I'm considering this. Some stranger, some naked rogue swings into my life, kills a hundred men, and then - no. No. This is too convenient. The timing - I don't believe you."

Her face melted from uncertainty to fear. Charles felt a tinge of worry. Had he pushed her too far? "Ellesmere -"

"Do not use my name like that!"

"Your Highness," Charles said, "I did not come here for anything concerning you or the Four Kingdoms. I didn't even know what this place was called. We met by chance. I'm helping you because I think you can help me - not to mention you saved my life."

"If that were true, you couldn't have known about me beforehand," Ellesmere said. "Everything you've said, all the right words, all the perfect little phrases! I know your type, Charles Ransfeld. I've been around men like you all my life!"

Charles realized she was at the brink. Ellesmere was trying to backpedal - trying to restore normalcy by rejecting the intrusion into her life, and he was that intrusion. He needed to close the sale, and he needed to do it very carefully.

If he retreated now, she'd sense it immediately. She'd already thrown rationality to the wind - she was half-hysterical as it was. Another reasonable explanation would be slapped aside. He needed to double down on her emotions.

If worst came to worst, he'd just nip his troubles in the bud. But he'd prefer not to do that.

Charles let his smile falter; the hint of a frown pulled his eyebrows together. He met her panicked stare with a melancholy gaze. "You're asking me how I knew those things?" he said, his voice low. "It was written on your face. It is, now."

Ellesmere's mouth opened slightly. "What are you saying?"

"I'm no magician," Charles said. "You looked as miserable at that ball as I once did. I saw it change when you showed me your map. The spark of passion, buried under duty. I knew you because I know myself."

Ellesmere was still for a moment. Her expression faltered between a longing for the comfort of familiarity and the inevitable realization that her old world was gone.

When it finally hit her, she shattered like glass. She threw herself forward, clutching at Charles's chest and bawling like a baby. He patted her gently on the back, rocking her to and fro. "Whoa, there. Easy."

"Maybe He did send you," she whispered.

"Who?" Charles glanced over his shoulder. "And we need to be leaving."

Ellesmere nodded into Charles's flour-dusted kitchen servant garb, smearing tears across its front. "So we do," she mumbled. "I'm sorry for what I - I just..."

"It's been a trying day for both of us. Let's leave it there." Charles took her hand and pulled her from the room. "You're healed, but your dress is a wreck. We'll need to get you something else, if we can." He pushed through the door. "There's got to be a -"

Charles stopped. Two men and a woman were standing in the kitchen; the woman was dressed in cheap tattered cloth, but the men looked to be chefs.

"Dear angels," the woman said. "That's the princess!"

"Weren't she kidnapped?"

"And burned."

Once of the chefs cocked an eyebrow. "In the cupboard with a servant, alone?"

The lady turned and cupped her mouth as if to shout.

Charles's fist crunched her hand into her face. Her shout turned into a mangled grunt.

Charles vaulted over the counter with one hand. His prosthetic leg snapped into the face of one of the chefs. The man shouted and collapsed backward. Charles grabbed a pan from a stovetop and threw it at him as he fell. It rebounded off the man's forehead. Sautéed mushrooms sprayed across the floor.

He moved in on the other chef, a tubby, red-faced man in stained white clothes. Charles came in with a fist, but the man put his guard up, blocking the punch. He backed off rapidly, meandering around the counter. "What the hell are you doing?! Someone help!"

Charles closed the distance and punched. The man blocked again - but the attack was only a feint. Charles brought his knee up under the man's guard, striking him in the stomach.

The chef coughed, then wheezed; the air was knocked out of him. His guard dropped as he tried to get his breath. Charles caught his drooping chin with a right cross, sending him to the kitchen floor.

Charles dashed back around the shelves. The servant woman was recovering from his punch. Charles grabbed the back of her neck and slammed her head into the side of the counter once, twice. When she fell slack, he grabbed the edges of her dress and started pulling it over her head.

"God in heaven," Ellesmere said. She was still at the pantry door, frozen half in amazement, half in shock. "Was that really necessary?"

"We're both supposed to be dead. I have a strong suspicion your father would prefer to keep it that way. Every person here is our enemy." He finished tugging the dress free, leaving the servant in a thin white shift. He tossed it at Ellesmere. "Put that on."

"But -"

"Now," Charles said. "Over your dress is fine."

Ellesmere huffed and started struggling with the outfit. "Stop doing that."

"What?"

"Giving me orders!"

Charles tapped his foot impatiently as Ellesmere bungled about with the dress. He kept his eyes on a swivel, watching the two entrances to the kitchen. "Why were these people still here? Half the building must be up in flames by now."

"Magicians," Ellesmere said. She fixed the dress around her neck, pulling her hair free. "Doused it with water, probably. You don't seem to be familiar with magic."

"We have a different kind of magic where I'm from," Charles said. "Let's go." He turned toward the door.

It opened on its own. An old woman poked her head in. "I thought I heard shout -"

Charles's response was automatic. His Palm Heel Strike made direct contact with the side of her face. She slammed into the stone door frame and dropped to the floor. From the scraps of essence he absorbed, he'd killed her in a single blow. He started pulling her into the kitchen.

"My god!" Ellesmere said. "She had to be seventy!"

"And I bet she could shriek like a banshee."

"You didn't have to do that!"

"I didn't hit her that hard. She'll be fine. Headache in the morning." He grabbed the thick shawl off her shoulders. "This is perfect," he said, chucking it at Ellesmere. "Put it over your head, hide your hair."

Ellesmere sniffed at him, but did as she was instructed. "This is madness. We can't go attacking everyone in the castle."

"What are you talking about? I'm only going to act against the people that get in the way."

"Look - Charles - er, Lord Ransfeld -"

"First of all," Charles said, turning on her, "don't call me lord ever again. Second of all, our strategy isn't up for debate. You questioned me at first, and guess what? I was right - about everything. Now you're alive, and the man that tried to tear your stomach open is dead. You questioned me again, and then we followed my plan, and now you're not bleeding out on the floor. And here we are once more, having a discussion because your delicate sensibilities are being threatened. Normally, a person would start to see a pattern and stop asking questions." Charles stepped up and put his face an inch from hers. "Don't look at the floor, look at me." Ellesmere raised her head. "You're my employee now. A secretary. That means two things. Number one: I go to any and all lengths to make sure my employees are taken care of, as long as they do their job and do it well. Number two: my word is law. In case you didn't notice, Princess, I'm the only friend you've got. I'm trying my damnedest to be patient with you, because I know you're trying just as hard to trust me. But if there is no fire, we no longer have a distraction. We are out of time. We need to go. I am going to crush anyone that tries to stop us. You can stay here, or you can follow me. Is that understood?"

Ellesmere made a tiny nod. "Understood." Charles smiled at her. "My lord," she added.

Charles sucked his breath in through his teeth, then sighed. "Well, I did say I liked them uppity. Stay behind me."

Ellesmere scurried after him and down the hall, keeping her shawl drawn low around her face. At the first corner they ran into a pair of guards. Both groups came to a stop.

"Where are you two going?" one of them asked. "The building is safe now. You'll be needed in the -"

"Oh, thank goodness," Charles said. He hid his bloodied knuckles in his sleeve. "Something's happened - someone attacked the chef in the kitchen! I didn't see them, but we found the people, all just lying there!" Charles grabbed the man's shoulder, shaking him. "Please, you have to help! I think some of them are dead!"

The guard shoved Charles away. "Fine, just get your hands off me. They're in the kitchen?"

"Yes, three - maybe four people. We thought it might be him, the man they said was killing people!"

The guard shoved past Charles and Ellesmere. "If this is a load of dung, lad," he called, "I swear I'll use you for target practice."

Charles waited until the guards were around the corner, then he ushered Ellesmere forward. She threw him a look as she passed by. "Why did you do that? Now they'll be looking down here!"

"And we're leaving the building," he said. "Take us whichever way is fastest."

There was a loud shout. One of the guards had come back into the intersection behind them; he grabbed a rope in an alcove. An alarm bell rang up above in the castle, clanging through the halls.

Charles and Ellesmere reached a stairwell and took the steps two at a time. At the next landing, they heard the sound of footsteps. Ellesmere huddled low as more men ran by the other way. Charles gave the guards a dumbfounded look. "Get out of here, lad," one of the men said. "That killer is on the loose in the castle!"

The guards shuffled down the steps. Charles caught Ellesmere's eye. "A baker's boy and a serving girl wouldn't attack four people in the kitchens," Charles said, "and that's who we are right now. And now we have a new distraction. Plenty of halls to keep them busy searching."

Ellesmere stared at him. "How far ahead do you think, exactly?"

"Just one step ahead of you, apparently."

Ellesmere muttered something under her breath. Charles chose to ignore it.

****

Charles and Ellesmere made it into the courtyard of the palace.

Charles would have used a different word to describe the building: fortress. The place was a massive bulwark of stone topped with irregular towers. All the roofs tapered to points; the grey shingles gave it the look of dulled iron daggers stabbing into the sky. Wooden and stone walkways encircled those steeples, connecting the highest points and providing lookouts for defenders. The outer buildings jutted and twisted around a central cluster of castles, almost like a miniature city.

One of the main castles was half-collapsed and smoking - the remains of the armory.

The courtyard they were in surrounded the whole structure, a sort of green moat stretching a few dozen yards between the start of the buildings and an outer wall. Flying buttresses extended from the central buildings and planted themselves in symmetric formations throughout the yard, partitioning the grass into open-air walks and gardens.

Charles and Ellesmere were huddled in the shadows at the end of one series of columns, watching the front gates. It had been early morning on Earth, but it was the dawn of night in Hadraan. Torches and iron braziers lit the outer wall and some of the doorways leading back into the castle, but their spot was dark enough to conceal them from a glance.

The great, iron-bound wooden doors of the wall were shut tight. A group of guards stood alert on either side of it. More patrolled the wall, and Charles could see shadows moving in the gatehouse.

He'd had the advantage in the thin corridors of the tower, but out here he'd be surrounded in an instant. Even if he could kill them all, they'd have to get through the inches-thick steel of a portcullis and open the gates - a job that would require the muscle of several men.

Charles eyed a stair that led up the wall. "How far a drop is it on the other side?"

"It's higher," Ellesmere said. "Perhaps seven or eight men tall?"

"Forty feet, give or take," Charles said. "Where can we get a rope that long?"

"The stables might have something. They keep supplies for knights and travelers that come in and out of the palace."

"Which way?"

Ellesmere pointed behind them. He nodded his assent, and let her lead the way through the gardens. They kept close to the walls, darting across open spaces and between the stone columns.

They reached another large gate - also shut. The varied structures on the inner side ended, replaced in a section by a long, two-story building big enough to rival one of his shipping warehouses. Three mounted guards were watching the entrance, along with two younger boys. Charles caught a faint whiff of that smell that always seemed to hang around any large collection of animals - sweat, rotting hay, and droppings, all mixed with a little dirt.