A look passed among the men. The king did not miss the exchange.
“You think I don’t know the stories?” he said. The King arched an eyebrow and addressed his majordomo. “There are no ghosts, only men who are cowards. I do not suspect the knights are filled with rank cowards.”
Shaking his head, the majordomo said, “Not a one, sire.”
“Then occupying Castle Deed will not be a problem?”
“None, sire.” Only the majordomo replied.
King Hermon Cordillera looked at the others, those eyebrows still raised. “What was that?”
This time each man responded. It wasn’t in unison, but the conviction of the answer was firm in their tone of voice. “None, sire.”
“I want a second baron, and one thousand men to follow the first group, but to continue on. They will cross the Zenith and settle into Castle Eridanus,” King Hermon said.
“Reports indicate the castle is in ruins,” the majordomo said.
King Hermon eyed the map. It would be easier crossing the Isthmian. He didn’t want the headache of a sea battle with the Voyagers. Their time would come. Now was not that time. The mountains would take time to cross, especially with winter approaching. No matter. He needed his forces spread across the land. “These men are essential. They will approach Grey Ashland from the north when we attach from the east.”
“And the sea? How will they get across? The Crimson Falls make impossible for a ship to meet them,” the majordomo said.
“It’s nearly winter. By the time they reach the pass, it should be frozen.”
“And if it’s not?”
The king growled. “Must I solve every problem? They have grapples, do they not? They can zip-line across the sea if necessary.”
“That many men zip-lining?” a captain at the end of the table said.
“If that is too much of a challenge, they can swim.”
“Zip-lining should be fine, sire,” the captain said.
More looks passed between the men, infuriating the king. He remembered the times his brother Jeremiah stayed up all night telling him how one day they would pack up gear, take the horses, and ride out to the Zenith Mountains. They’d journey the across the peaks, and sleep under the stars by the Isthmian. Fishing for food, they’d spend a summer on their own. Cordillera loved seeing the preparations made. The idea of getting away with his brother, even if only for a few months always excited him. He could imagine them sitting by the sea with fishing poles beside them, laughing and soaking in the day’s sun. They’d stay up late nights and stare at the sky telling stories until finally falling asleep. Best of all, it would be just the two of them. Brothers. They would be countless miles away from their father. He wouldn’t be around praising everything Jeremiah did, and degrading Hermon. With plans set they were definitely going, but then Jeremiah died, and the idea of the trip died with him.
“We will defeat the Voyagers when we cross the sea for Grey Ashland, and Nabal’s Castle will succumb to our attacks easily, as well,” he said. They had no need for understanding what the future held. When he was an all-powerful wizard nothing would stand in his way. These captains must trust their king at his word, and be satisfied. “Does anyone not approve of my plan? Now is the time to speak up. Once we begin, it will be too late for sharing. Tell me now so we can assess everything together. Here. Now.”
The captain at the end of the table closed his mouth, lips pressed tight.
“You’ve something to say?” King Hermon said.
“No, sire.”
“Don’t bite your tongue, captain. If you do not tell me the flaws in my plan, I am forced to question your loyalty,” he said.
“It’s nothing, sire. It’s just,” he said, but stopped talking.
“Speak, captain!”
“Crossing the mountain range with supplies, a baron and his family, it won’t be easy this time of year,” the captain said. “The storms are coming soon. Snow. It’s always worse in the mountains. We’re bound to lose a lot of men during the journey,” he said.
“And you propose?”
“Waiting until the thaw, until spring, when battling the elements won’t be a concern.”
King Hermon smiled. “A concern?”
“Sire?”
“You’re concerned?”
“For my men, your men, yes, sire. I always worry about the safety of the men. They are family to me, sire”
“That’s wonderful, captain.” King Hermon said. “I applaud your… paternal instinct.”
King Hermon caught the majordomo’s eyes, and nodded with a grimace.
The majordomo walked around the table, up to the captain who’d spoken, and quickly thrust a dagger into his throat. He pulled out the blade, and blood sprayed from the wound. The captain remained on his feet, both hands clamped over the wound, which stopped the spray, but now thick blood oozed between fingers and covered his hands. The captain stared at the majordomo, who shrugged with apologetic eyes.
“Push him away from the table!” King Hermon scowled. “He’s getting blood all over the place. Look at the mess. The wood is going to drink that up. We’ll never get the stains out.”
The majordomo pushed the captain’s body over. It fell hard onto the floor with a hollow thud.
King Hermon clapped his hands together. “Okay. Does anyone else have any… concerns? Anyone? Please, speak now. It will be your last chance to voice an opinion. No? Very well.
“As I was saying, then. Once we secure the realms of the Old Empire, we will surround and conquer the islands,” King Hermon said.
“And then?” the majordomo said. His voice sounded shaky, as if he’d spoken, when he’d meant to hold his tongue.
“And then? And then I will be the emperor. Your emperor. From there we will expand out lands to the west, and east, to the north and south,” he said. He picked up his chalice and chugged the remaining ale. His head feeling clearer than it had only moments ago.
The men cheered.
The cheers echoed inside the room.
And inside the Mountain King’s head.
Chapter 8
The door to the room opened. Eadric immediately stepped out in front of his son, sword and dagger drawn. Blodwyn readied himself with his staff, holding it away from his chest in both hands. Although he wasn’t sure how much damage he could cause, Mykal held out his arms, palms up. He didn’t feel anything inside his veins; no electricity pulsed up and down his arms. Could magic expire? Could he tax his body of all power? Had he used what limited sorcery was inside him, and now he was nothing shy of ordinary?
More Watch filled the room. They parted, and King Golan Nabal stepped forward. He was dressed in his crimson robe, with a wide belt around his waist. The crown was distinct with four white diamonds, and on the triangular panel at the forehead a black diamond that was square. That was the rare gem said to have been mined from the Gorge Caves, beneath the Zenith Mountains in the north. Mykal had a new appreciation for the stone. He’d been in those caves. He knew the dangers of working the mines. It went far beyond cave-ins, and bad air.
“Lower your weapons,” King Nabal said. His voice commanded action. He was not a meek or mild ruler. However, no one responded. In fact, Eadric made a show of fixing his grip on the hilt of the longsword he’d taken off the corpse.
“We came as favor,” Eadric said.
“Kneel before your king,” a Watch said.
Ignoring the Watch, Blodwyn said, “We were here to help you, Your Highness. Not harm you.”
King Nabal motioned for his men to lower their blades. He stepped over a bloodied body. He looked around the room. If he was mortified by the sight of such carnage, he didn’t let it show. With an even voice he said, “Look at it from my point of view, why don’t you? I’m told that the knights captured a wizard, and two criminals. That these crazed men speaking of war between kingdoms are demanding an audience with me. How often do you think I meet with the public one-on-one? If I allowed it my days would be spent counseling
couples, and solving ridiculous disputes between the subjects. Whose sheep is defecating on whose grass, whose barn is built on whose property; whose wife is sleeping with whose brother? I’ve no time for such trivialities. I have courts to handle such matters. I have people I trust decide those fates.”
“Forgive me for speaking boldly, Your Highness, but our claim was quite a bit more intense that the trivialities you’ve mentioned,” Blodwyn said.
“Which is why I allowed you access to the castle,” the king said.
“And ambushed us.” Eadric was not as cool at keeping his tone of voice even. Blodwyn and King Nabal had the pleasantries mastered.
King Nabal looked around the room again, only it was more exaggerated this time. His mouth hung slightly open, and he clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a time or two. “And how did that work out for me?”
No one answered.
“You,” King Nabal said, pointing at Mykal. “You admit that you are a wizard? I mean, you have no sword. No knife. There are plenty discarded around you. Instead, you stand there with bare hands pointed at me as if your arms were as sharp as spears. Yes. You must be the wizard.”
Mykal wanted his eyes closed. There was a dull throb behind the sockets. He thought he could hear his brain peel away from the sides of his skull, and plop into blood, and juices and just float free between his ears. “The Mountain King is readying himself for an attack. He has a wizard, no… he has two wizards—”
“Well, which is it? One, or two? How many wizards does he have?” King Nabal laughed. It was slight. More of a snicker. It was a laugh, however, and it annoyed Mykal.
“One is in his employ. One, his prisoner. And he is in the process of summoning three more—”
“Five, then? Cordillera has five wizards over there in his castle in the clouds?” King Nabal shook his head, waved his hand around, and again stepped over a corpse in front of his feet. “How can you expect me to believe that? How do I know you are not one of his army of wizards?” He stared directly at Mykal. “He may have sent you here to kill me.”
Mykal regarded the king for a moment. “Are you dead?”
The smug smile on the king’s face froze in place. It was as if for the first time he realized his life could be in some type of jeopardy. He hadn’t witnessed Mykal’s magic only moments ago, but the devastation from the sorcery was all around him. “Are you threatening your king?”
“We are here to warn you,” Mykal said, and added, “Your Highness.”
“And what would you like me to do with the information?” the king asked. His Watch circled around Mykal, Eadric, and Blodwyn.
“We are not your enemy,” Mykal said. “We knew coming here would be a risk. I know how you feel about magic. I put my own freedom, my own life, in danger so I could warn you.”
“It was rather foolish,” King Nabal said. “The standing law against magic, magicians, wizards, and sorcery of any kind was enacted by my grandfather, King Grandeer. Some say that the open use of dark arts started the fall of Rye’s empire.
“These two could have delivered the same message. You could have stayed beyond the Grey Ashland border. The outcome would have been more in your favor,” King Nabal said.
“And yet, here I am. I wanted to provide proof. I also wanted to surrender to you my assistance. I am a loyal subject, Your Highness. I was born and raised on these lands. I have always considered you a fair and just ruler. Wise, and well-respected by your subjects,” Mykal said. He knew he laid it on thick. Stroking the ego made more sense. Anyone else might pick up on the somewhat insincerity of the compliments. A king wouldn’t. Royalty was raised to expect that kind of treatment. The way King Nabal looked at him let Mykal know he’d played the hand correctly. For an added effect, Mykal bowed, and lowered himself to one knee. Eadric and Blodwyn kneeled as well.
Pleased with himself, King Nabal motioned for them to rise. “So, am I to understand that rather than lock the three of you away in the dungeons, or better yet, having you hung for your crimes,” Nabal waved a hand over the carnage before him, “and having you, wizard, burned at the stake, I am supposed to… what? Place you in charge of my knights? Have you command my Watch? That is highly unlikely.”
Mykal sucked in a deep breath. He felt like he was talking to a stone wall. The man lacked the ability to listen. The king thought because he was king he knew best. There was no room for compromise. It was also a personality fault with having been raised as royalty. Mykal would wager no one ever spoken open or honestly to the king. His ears were more than likely always filled with the words he wanted heard. It was a shame. “Perhaps we were wrong to expect concern on your part,” Mykal said. “We’d hoped saving your subjects was important, saving your land, and this castle meant something.”
“Oh, you were not wrong. I am concerned. You, wizard, are my concern. My people are not in any more danger than Grey Ashland.” King Nabal lost his temper. His tone of voice was higher pitched, and filled with gritty anger. “How dare you come into my castle, kill my men, and talk to me as if you were an equal! Watch, take them away.”
“You don’t want to do that.” Mykal threw out his arms. Balls of blue flames danced on the tips of his fingers.
Eadric and Blodwyn backed up. They faced off in three directions. The Watch closed in on them.
“I believe we have a very serious disconnect, young man. I have been hunting your kind since before you were born. My Watch know exactly how to handle someone with your evil talents. You are under my roof, under my command. You do not tell me what I can or can’t do,” King Nabal said, and yet he made no move to attack. His eyes were transfixed on the blue flames.
“You misunderstand me,” Mykal said. “I am not here to command anything. We are leaving. We have pressing matters that demand our attention. Make no mistake; King Cordillera will be crossing that sea soon. I imagine there will be a fleet of ships on the way. I do not want innocent people harmed, or killed. I am not sure how to state our case any clearer. We are not the enemy. I am not your enemy. We are leaving. You can prepare, or ignore the warning we bring. The choice is yours.”
King Nabal released a short laugh. If the room were empty, the horrid sound might echo off the rock walls. Instead, it fell flat, as if absorbed into the corpses, and drowned in the pools of blood. “Leaving is not an option. The three of you are a danger to the crown, a threat to my subjects—the same ones you absently claim to care so much about. I cannot have you wander loose, either inside the boundaries of my realm, or even beyond. The Watch,” he said, and snapped his fingers.
Mykal didn’t want more violence. He hated it. The killing churned the acids in his stomach. As it was, he did everything he could not to look down at the bodies scattered about. He had higher hopes for this encounter. Perhaps it had been childish to assume the king would respond appropriately. Maybe trying to take them in chains was the way a king should respond? He didn’t know them from enemies.
“Your magic does not throw fear into our hearts the way you expected,” the king said, which were brave words. Yet, no one advanced even a single step. The standoff continued.
“It shouldn’t,” Mykal said. He wished they could have talked. If he had been given a chance to better explain the situation, things might have ended differently. “I pose no threat to you or your men.”
The king snorted. “Tell those lies to the families of these dead soldiers. I’m sure they would believe you, and welcome you into their homes with open arms. Sorcery is from the devil, son. You are a lost soul. Your trickery will only serve to damn those who follow you. That makes you responsible for the lives lost. You. Have you thought about that? Have you considered what you are doing? Who are you to play God with the lives of others? Son, extinguish those flames and lower your arms. Redemption is here. We can have the monks pray over your soul, and with them you can beg for forgiveness.”
“And you’d spare my life?” Mykal said.
King Nabal shook his head. “Oh, no, no. Yo
u must be put to death. There is no way around that. My job, my responsibility as the king of Grey Ashland is the protection of the realm. Letting you live goes against all that is required of me as king. If, however, the monks believe you have truly repented and our sorry for your sins, I can assure you the death delivered would be swift, and less painful than burning at a stake.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Eadric said. “There’s nothing evil about your gifts.”
Mykal shook his head. He let his father’s words sink in. His mother was a wizard. She passed the gifts down to him. They were not evil. He was not evil. “King Nabal, we have spent far too much time here. Please, step aside.”
“I cannot do that,” Nabal said.
Mykal said, “I do not want to hurt you, any of you. Please don’t make me.”
King Nabal smiled, and shook his head.
Mykal knew the words spoken would not be encouraging. The time for warnings had come and past. He raised his arms above his head. The blue flames rose and lit the ceiling in a circular pattern. Fire embers dripped down on them. The roar of the growing fire was deafening. Mykal felt the power behind his eyes, and focused his stare on the king.
The Watch looked ready to strike, but stood still, as if enchanted by the fire.
“Fall,” Mykal said. He motioned with his hands. The Watch all fell forward and backward. When they were all down he wished them to sleep. He pushed out with both hands, punching air. A gust shot forward. The wind slammed against the king like a wall. His feet lifted off the floor. His stomach caved inward. Flying backward, the King crashed against the closed and locked door. The impact knocked him out. He crashed onto the floor, and his head fell to the side.
“Mykal,” Blodwyn said, “he’s not…”
“No,” Mykal said. “He’s fine. Let’s get out of here.”
“This won’t be the end of it,” Eadric said, walking toward the king.
“Eadric,” Blodwyn said, “this way.”
They exited the castle through the shattered window. Their boots crunched on the shards of glass. Mykal’s legs wobbled. Blodwyn and Eadric grabbed an arm. They helped him keep his feet. They ran as fast as they could toward the moat.
Severed Empire: Wizard's War Page 9
