Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 196

Chapter 196: Losing control
Trace’s frustration and fear moved to borderline panic when Anaisa was separated from him, He turned, hitting both his fists against the wall Sanders had created with Trace’s power.

Shattering it, he grabbed Anaisa’s hand, only to have the earth break in half and pull them apart. Trace hastily conjured a bridge across it, and ran to her again. Searing flames roared up from the chasm, creating another barrier between Trace and his wife.

“STOP!” He turned and screamed at Sanders. It felt like a gross violation to have his powers used without his consent. He could sense the magic surging from him as Sanders used it. He could not rip control of his power away from Sanders, but it seemed like he could still use it independently, flowing out of him twice as quickly as before.

To battle Sanders like this would be an endless stalemate. He could only hope the man would see reason and cease trying to manipulate him through the use of his own powers.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” The seer shook his head, letting the flames dissipate and the rift close. “The sooner you give in to the fact that my way is the best, the easier this will go for all of us. If your wife wants magic, she need only say so, and she will be allowed to stay.”

“She doesn’t want to stay, and neither do I,” Trace glared. “Let us go in peace, I entreat you. Create whatever society here that you want, with whoever is willing to do so.”

“You haven’t been listening,” Sanders complained. “They aren’t willingly doing what is right. What is good. I must make them, by whatever means.”

“Listen to yourself for a moment!” Anaisa stepped towards the man, hopping across what was left of the crack Sanders had made in the ground. “Block out everything. You see it all, but just… focus, for a brief moment. Just on me.”

She lowered her voice, and Trace watched as she took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling. “Focus on my voice. My mundane, simple words. This is not who you are. You’ve been forced to do what you didn’t want to for so long, I know that deep down, you don’t want to inflict that on anyone else. After how long you’ve worked towards freeing your sister… You don’t want this. You can’t.”

“You know nothing of me,” Sanders responded without blinking. His eyes narrowed. “Are you buying time? I see the magic users with the king drawing close.”

“I think more visitors here would only complicate the situation at this point, don’t you?” Anaisa questioned lightly, but glanced at Trace with a light of concern in her eyes.

He shared it. The king might be endangered by coming here, and yet, with the news of his son being alive, it was unlikely they would convince him to stay away. The confrontation would be unpleasant at best, and highly lethal at worst.

“Let us go,” Trace urged again. “You can still change your mind. There’s time before the king arrives. Right now, you’re the hero who rid the kingdom of the most vile traitor in generations. Don’t risk that.”

“I’m risking nothing,” Sanders snapped. “Let them come. It is nothing to me.”

Trace looked at Anaisa nervously. His eyes urged her to get away. To escape while she could.

She shook her head, as he knew she would.

The silence was tense as they heard sounds from the ancillary escape tunnel. Seth must have shown them the way. Trace’s parents bowed deeply as the king entered, but the man did not notice.

He was staring in awe at the tree.

“Don’t touch it!” Anaisa cried, and Trace took her hand and squeezed it. She ought not yell at the king, but the monarch had never seemed put off by her before. Perhaps now…

“Where is my son?” The king asked suddenly, tearing his eyes from the supernatural sight and scanning the people within the cavern.

Deborah stepped forward, warily, as she eyed Sanders. The seer was unfocused, scattered. Or perhaps far more focused than Trace could make out.

“The queen called him Ewan,” Anaisa told King Harold. The doctor stepped forward to check the king’s head as the royal looked at the baby in Deborah’s arms. Having been informed the king was knocked out, the doctor obviously felt the need to make sure the monarch was none the worse for wear.

“You’ve not taken care of yourself since my absence,” The doctor accused with pursed lips.

“Did you expect me to be able to do so while trying to hold the machinations of a magical madman at bay?” King Harold shook his head. “I was awake night and day, hating him for his manipulation, and myself for my hubris.”

The king’s eyes rose until he pinned them on Trace. “You tried to warn me. To help me. I did not listen until it was too late, and it almost meant my death, and the doom of the kingdom.”

The king sat down heavily on a stone while the hum of the doctor’s magic filled the air. Trace cut his eyes over to Sanders, but the man did not seem intent on interfering with the king’s treatment. His eyes were watching three dozen other things all at once.

“You did your best, Majesty,” Trace smiled briefly.

“Without you, my son…” The king’s eyes roved to the baby gurgling in Deborah’s arms. “How is he alive? He almost seems a different babe entirely.”

“The tree enhances powers, Your Majesty,” The doctor explained humbly, his eyes also cutting over to Sanders. “Within its presence I was able to heal your son of his ailments. He is now as healthy as any other child.”

“A miracle,” The king whispered, his eyes filling with tears. “After so long, after so much loss, I will bring my wife a living child.”

“Not quite yet,” Sanders said idly, crushing Trace’s hopes that the man would abandon his mad plan.

“Is something wrong?” The king looked sideways at his magical advisor.