Severed Empire: Wizard's War

by Phillip Tomasso

  Mykal studied the lines in Blodwyn’s face. They were clear, and deep in the rising sunlight. His brows were thick, and furrowed toward the bridge of his nose. “You’re not going to tell me I’m wrong? That I can do it? That if anyone can beat him, I can?”

  Blodwyn continued tapping the end of his staff, but lowered his head and looked down at the ground.

  Mykal said, “I was hoping—”

  “That’s not how life works, Mykal. We’re at the front lines, at the onset of a war. Your magic is amazing. I have never seen anything like it in all of my days. I’ve spent the better part of your life teaching you how to defend yourself with swords, and daggers. With your hands in in close combat. Turns out, you didn’t even need it.”

  Mykal unsheathed his Jian sword.

  Blodwyn cast a sideways glance at the weapon. “You’ve not used that weapon in a while. With your magic, I am not sure you need it any longer.”

  “This is my favorite weapon. We spent countless days practicing with it.”

  “Years.”

  “Countless years.” Mykal smiled. “I know how to use it. I consider this special sword to be part of me. Everything you’ve ever taught me, and I am not just referring to self-defense, you know, but everything… I have you to thank for that.”

  “It’s not about thanking me. I’m not looking for acknowledgment, or a pat on the back for a job well-done, son. We stand here ready to fight to the death if necessary, and I don’t have anything helpful to say, because this is new to me.” Blodwyn looked up, and around. “I don’t know who the stronger wizard is. I don’t know how wizards fight. I’ve never trained you for a battle like this, because I have never fought a battle like it. I want to tell you that you are the more powerful sorcerer, that if anyone can defeat the Mountain King, it’s you. That’s how I feel here,” he tapped his chest, “but I’d just be telling you what you want to hear. What I want to believe. One thing I’ve always done with you, is tell you like it is.”

  “Except about my mother.”

  “That was for—”

  “I understand, Wyn. Listen, I am here because of you. I’ve made it this far because of your training. The man I am is because of the role you and my Grandfather played in my life. We will beat this evil wizard.”

  Blodwyn sighed. “This isn’t as simple as saying good will triumph over bad because that is how life should work. We have been exposed to enough on this trek to see just the opposite.”

  “You’re not making me feel better, Wyn.”

  “I have seen your magic. Your skills have continued to improve,” Blodwyn said.

  Mykal thought back to when he nearly burned the Cicade Forest to the ground.

  “You have performed some amazing feats. The Mountain King has no idea who he is about to go up against. He thinks he’s courageous crossing the sea, coming here to battle powers against you? That just proves how idiotic the man truly is. I have a feeling he suspects his war will be swift, and effortless.

  “What I do know is this, win or lose, I am honored to know you, and thankful we are friends. You and I will be fighting together. We’ll be side-by-side. It seems fitting. Aside from no war at all, I don’t think I would want it any other way. If that makes any sense at all.”

  Mykal nodded. “It does. It makes perfect sense.”

  As the ship sailed toward a slip in the Cove, Mykal felt something change in the air. It trembled around him. He closed his eyes, and searched for the source. The Mountain King was drawing power from the elements around him.

  Large fireballs launched from the bow of the ship. They slammed into the buildings around the small marina. Red flames and thick smoke rose into the air. The fire grew, and roared with intensity. Clapboard and painted wood crackled and blackened. The smoke created a wall blocking most of the docks from clear view.

  Mykal and Blodwyn charged forward, the Watch and knights were just behind them.

  Arrows pierced the smoke. The army dropped to knees and raised shields above their heads. There was a steady thwack thwack thwack of broad-heads pushing into shields. Those on horseback did their best at protecting themselves as they raced forward. Still, many men and beasts crumbled to the ground. Screams erupted from all directions.

  Mykal didn’t let any of it slow his pace.

  More than one ship landed. Cordillera’s knights jump from the decks onto the docks as he and Blodwyn reached the edge of the Cove.

  Mykal’s eyes closed. His head became light. He reached out for support that wasn’t there, and almost fell.

  Blodwyn caught his arm at the last second. “Mykal?”

  “He’s not on the ship,” Mykal said, and turned around.

  He felt the king’s magic inside him, just before he heard the man laugh. Mykal opened his eyes.

  The Mountain King stood behind them. A crimson smoke was dissipating around his body. He was inside Mykal’s head, chanting some incantation over and over. The sound of his voice made his muscles weak, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his feet under him. He dropped the sword. It clanked on the pier. He clapped his hands over his ears, but before he fell to his knees, he pushed back.

  He felt a surge of energy inside him. The effect was dim, but enough to regain his balance. Mykal dug his boots into the ground and raised both hands.

  “I remember you,” King Cordillera said. “The last time we met you were on the ground. Dead.”

  Mykal wasn’t interested in banter.

  An electrical charge started in his shoulders and pulsed forward through his arms. Blue bolts streamed out of his fingertips. The beams struck where Cordillera once stood. Smoke rose from the seared ground.

  Cordillera was several feet away, behind the charred area. “We don’t have to do this, you know. All of this. It can be avoided.”

  Steel clashed with steel. The smell of burning structures filled Mykal’s nose. The thick smoke blew in several directions all at once. He coughed, choking on smoke. He rubbed away tears with the sleeve on his tunic. Mykal blinked several times, hoping his blurred vision might clear. He placed one hand over the other. A heat grew between his palms.

  “With your magic, and my magic, we can rule the Old Empire together. We can rejoin the segregated lands as one. We can—”

  A large ball of blue fire and electricity appeared between Mykal’s hands, and as soon as he could, he threw it at the king.

  The ball hissed and popped as it slammed into a wall with a crimson hue.

  The wall shimmered. It reminded Mykal of the protective spell cast over his grandfather’s farm.

  Mykal stumbled sideways, but refused to fall.

  The king scoffed. “I am trying to talk to you, wizard to wizard. Your lack of respect is insulting. I believe I’ve given you too much credit.”

  Cordillera waved his hands and the crimson wall evaporated. “We should talk somewhere that is quieter. It is far too noisy here to even hear myself think.”

  Mykal chanced a look back. Blodwyn was in the thick of the fight. His iron and wood staff knocked swords from hands. He tripped men, taking them out behind the knees. He swung the bulbous end of the staff around, and it thunked into the sides of heads.

  Just as a crimson smoke swallowed him, Mykal heard his mother screaming…

  ***

  Mykal woke to the sound of his mother’s voice. It echoed inside his head. She sounded terrified.

  “Mother?” he said.

  Mother, he thought.

  When he opened his eyes, he saw the sea. It was at an odd angle. He wasn’t at the Cove, though. He was on the beach where he fished. He could see the top of the rock pier to his right.

  He could twist his head to the right. To the left.

  He couldn’t move.

  The sea was eye level.

  His arms were pinned at his sides, and the sand was up to his chin. Some had gotten into his mouth. He spit trying to get the particles off his lips.

  “Mother!”

  She didn’t answer
.

  He couldn’t hear her inside his head.

  Black boots stepped in front of his face. He did his best to tilt his head back, and look up.

  Sun rays were blocked by the shadow of a man.

  “At least now, here, like this, I know I have your undivided attention,” King Cordillera said. He squatted down next to Mykal’s head. The sun was like a halo over and behind the king’s head.

  “Let me out of here,” Mykal said.

  He was trapped, packed in tight, buried up to his neck in the sand.

  Breathing became an issue. There was plenty of fresh air. He gasped, his claustrophobia kicking in.

  “Does this bother you? Small, compact places?” King Cordillera brought a gloved hand close to Mykal’s face.

  Mykal saw what was on the king’s hand, and strained against sand, unable to put any distance between them.

  The brown spider was different from the ones he’d encountered under the Cicade Forest, and smaller than the ones in the caves beneath the Rames.

  Dark bristly hairs covered eight long legs. The mass of black eyes on the head of the spider stared at him, blinking at different times. Large fangs protruded from the corner of a mouth that was dripping with spider saliva.

  “A shame that spiders are so misunderstood,” King Cordillera said. He twisted his hand around so the spider could continually walk without falling off his fingers. “He seems to be rather curious about you, doesn’t he? You look rather upset, boy. Would you like me to take him away? Maybe give you time to think about my earlier offer?”

  “I can’t join you,” Mykal stammered. He breathed quick and heavy breaths. His face felt hot. He imagined his skin had become red, and was wet with sweat despite the cold earth, and frigid temperatures.

  “Can’t, or won’t?” King Cordillera stood up. Mykal tried keeping his eyes on the spider in his hand. He lost sight of it. That worried him. He thought his heart might explode inside his chest.

  His brain was spinning wild inside his skull.

  He couldn’t keep a single thought straight.

  Mykal managed to blurt out, “Won’t!”

  “A shame,” King Cordillera said, stepping back, and back, and back.

  The sand by the sea moved.

  It crawled. Things scurried toward him. He watched as thousands of legs moved faster and faster.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the king said. “I believe they can sense your fear.”

  There were hundreds of spiders headed his way. They seemed to be emerging from the sea. More and more washed up onto shore as wave after wave lapped over the sand.

  They would be on him in seconds.

  “I can spare you the discomfort of an agonizing death, you know.”

  Mykal was too distraught to think straight. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare. They had been in the midst of a battle by the cove.

  The spider King Cordillera had been holding dropped from his hand. It fell on its back, and squirmed until it was able to right itself. It stopped only inches from Mykal’s nose. “Agree to join me, boy,” the king said.

  The legs extended, and the meaty body of the spider rose in the air. Its eyes never blinked this time. Instead it stared at him, malevolence glowed behind those eyes.

  If this were happening, if this was real, Mykal thought, I can stop it. I can make this stop. But how?

  The spider stepped onto his face. The hair on its legs was bristly, and sharp. The sensation irritated his skin. His nose twitched reflexively. His fingers fought against hard-packed sand to no avail.

  He wanted to open his mouth and scream. He didn’t dare! He wasn’t going to open his mouth. He didn’t want to agitate the arachnid. The thing was on the top of his head.

  The other spiders ran at him. Something tickled his left earlobe. They’d reached him. He shut his eyes tight against the horror.

  His breathing was too fast, too hard. He was going to pass out. His head spun, as if his brain was loose inside his skull and twirling around and around between his ears.

  Another spider tapped at his lower lip with a long leg before walking onto his face. It sat over his nose and forehead. Mykal welcomed death. His scream resounded in his mind. Never had he felt so trapped, so mortal.

  Mortal. He was more than mortal. He was a wizard. He couldn’t focus his thoughts. They came in fragments, and unraveled strings.

  Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, Mykal made himself calm.

  I am a wizard. I am in control. I can handle this. I can handle him!

  The spiders on the beach caught fire.

  The ones on his head popped off, as if they had been shocked by a current passing through Mykal’s body, and then caught fire.

  King Cordillera stomped a foot in the sand, and dropped his arms down, fingers extended.

  Mykal escaped from being buried in the sand. It whipped around his body. The speed it encircled him with was like a tornado. The particles were like glass and cut King Cordillera. He threw his arms up to shield his face and eyes. The sand tore at his clothing, and then at exposed flesh.

  Mykal’s skin itched. His mind wouldn’t forget the spiders that had been crawling all over him. He pushed the tingling sensation away as best he could. It had been enough of a distraction that the whirlwind lost its momentum.

  King Cordillera laughed, and dusted himself off.

  Mykal saw drops of blood drip onto the sand. The Mountain King was hurt. It was superficial, but spoke volumes.

  The man could be beaten!

  Cordillera swung an arm toward Mykal. Red bolts shot out of his palm.

  Mykal dropped and rolled to the right. Crouched low, he brought his arms together in front of him, clapping his hands together. A wave of white and blue sprayed outward. The disturbance knocked Cordillera back, and off his feet.

  He fell hard on his back, legs up.

  The waves from the sea rolled over him. He struggled, turning onto his side, and trying to get back onto his feet.

  Mykal didn’t hesitate. He opened his mind and screamed for help.

  A sea serpent leapt out of the sea. The creature’s mouth opened wide, bearing rows of sharp teeth.

  Cordillera jumped out of the sea as the serpent dove back into the water, just missing its meal.

  Mykal altered his arms, throwing one forward, and then the other. The bolts flew from his hands making the sand smoke, and the sea water hiss. A lucky shot clipped Cordillera’s foot. He stumbled forward, and landed face first in the sand.

  Just as Mykal raised his arms, ready for delivering another blow, a crimson cloud encased Cordillera’s body, and when it evaporated, the Mountain King was gone with it.

  Chapter 38

  Mykal stood on the empty beach. In his mind he called out to his mother. He had heard her screaming before, but could not respond then. She was on his mind. Her safety. He called out to her again, but there was no response.

  He assumed more of King Cordillera’s ships reached land, and that enemy knights stormed the Ridgeland Port. He would have to go there. His parents may need his help. He only hoped he wasn’t too late. Chasing down Cordillera would just have to wait.

  Mykal!

  It was his mother. He heard her. He took a second and closed his eyes, and sighed. He wasn’t sure if he’d hear her voice again. All the hoping in the world meant nothing. Her voice inside his head was at least confirmation that she was alive. Are you okay?

  There were so many! They are headed for the castle! They plan to knock out the towers and turrets, ram walls, climb the walls, and raise the portcullis!

  Stay hidden, Mykal warned his mother.

  We tried to stop them, Mykal!

  Tried to stop them? It was the way she said it. A chill ran up his spine. He shivered. Are you okay? Where is Father?

  You can’t let them breach the keep! All of those innocent people are in danger!

  Something had gone wrong. He had a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach. Where is Father?<
br />
  I am with him! Go, Mykal. They’re on the main path. Someone has to stop them. You may be the only one. Save the keep!

  The sand changed to smoke and in an instant, he was propelled through space. When the sand fell away he was in front of the castle’s raised bridge. It would not be an easy kingdom to conquer, but neither was it an impossible one to overcome.

  Mykal saw Cordillera’s men on the path. They headed directly for him.

  With his mind clear and finally focused, Mykal strode toward the knights. His arms were in front of him, as if he were walking in his sleep.

  He was not sleepwalking.

  He created a field of blue and green electricity in front of him. It was oval in shape, and rose several feet above his head, and a few feet out to either side. It moved forward with him, with each step he took. The knights gave pause long enough to loose arrows and throw spears. The weapons burst into flames on contact with the glowing, and crackling shield.

  Mykal could not understand why the men marched two by two in a line.

  This made them easy targets.

  He threw balls of fire at them. The mage fire skipped across the ground, leaving burning debris like footprints in its approach, and bounced up at the last moment. Flames smashed into the men in the lead, the ones bearing the Mountain King’s sigil on flags. The fireball pushed through the row of knights, and sent them scattering.

  Mykal unleashed bolts of lightning after the knights on the run. His mother had been right. There were almost too many men. They clearly had a plan of attack in mind. The sight of so many enemy soldiers inside the Grey Ashland borders was frightening. His thoughts drifted toward King Nabal, his knights, and Blodwyn. He desperately wanted to be fighting alongside them, as well.

  He couldn’t help thinking of Coil, and Uncle Quill.

  There were too many fronts. Despite all of the fair warning, he felt severely unprepared. Defending the realm wasn’t his responsibility, though. They tried warning Nabal, and all that had done is assure him a life sentence in the dungeons at the conclusion of the war. This, assuming of course, he survived the war. That was thinking optimistically. There could be a noose around the neck in the near future, because what king would ever admit they had been wrong?