Luther, Magi: Blood of Lynken II

by Geoffrey C Porter

  "My war general is Malik. He comes from the far reaches of the Northlands. He has studied every war tome in Nork. I also believe Derrick will be interested in participating. He speaks of wishing to repay Lynken."

  Simon smiled.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Rubie poured a bit of honey on a roll and took a few quick bites. "How many children do you have?"

  "Do you mean how many are traitors?"

  Rubie choked for a second. "Grand total, traitors and all."

  "Three. Two of the runts are definitely traitors."

  "I have three as well."

  Simon followed the queen's steps with the honey and a roll. "Where are they?"

  "Peter, my eldest, is married and working as a tradesman. Making shoes this week, I think. No interest in the throne. My daughter is most likely in her studio, painting. She paints and draws constantly."

  "And the third?"

  "Gregory, he's special. He hangs on every word from Malik. He studies the war tomes and trains every day with the soldiers. He'll take on the crown when I grow old."

  "But he's the youngest?"

  "Nork is different. We don't want a king or queen who doesn't want the job. How many children did you and your wife, Heather, want?"

  "Why do you ask?" Simon said.

  "When I was a girl, I can remember countless times after the Ranger trials, five brothers would be drinking ale at a table. The eldest would be retiring, while the youngest was joining, and the three middle brothers carried Ranger's blades. Now a family with more than three children is unheard of, and that is my generation. Some of the families the same age as my oldest are having difficulty having one child, and a second is uncommon."

  Simon got a faraway look in his eyes as if he was lost in thought. "We have tried for a fourth."

  "And people you know? Do they have less than four children?"

  Simon shook his head. "I too remember when I was a boy, families with five or six children were commonplace. Seemed like every year some families would have a new child."

  "Can you think of a time when someone in our generation had twins? Triplets?"

  "What are you getting at?"

  "Well, don't you think it's something scholars should be addressing? Is it possible we've lost the favor of some God?"

  "Yes," Simon said, "now that you bring it up, it may be worth researching. Maybe we have lost something from our diet, like we stopped cooking with wolfbane or some other herb or spice."

  "I don't think it's dietary. Is it affecting Tercia? Weslan? Kergia? Derrick says the quickest way he could research it would be to summon a demon, but he swore off summoning demons decades ago. Maybe Juxta or the Council of Weslan, or the Druids, could take the matter up."

  "Juxta has summoned both demons and ghosts before. Do you really think it's a sign of our extinction?"

  "I never said that, but I think if we stop having children, isn't that where this is heading?"

  Somebody off to the side said, "Greetings."

  Simon and Rubie looked in that direction. A pale-skinned man with jet black hair cut in wild lines stood there. A younger man resembling Rubie stood at his side.

  Rubie said, "Malik. And the boy is Gregory."

  Simon stood up and bowed to them.

  "I figured we'd assemble the troops," Malik said. "It's a worthwhile drill no matter what."

  "Yes, that's perfect," Rubie said. "We're waiting on Derrick."

  Derrick arrived, and he appeared healthy enough. He wore a necklace of massive gems and a gray cloak.

  Simon and Rubie explained about the Southlanders to Malik and Derrick.

  Gregory's eyes began to glaze over. "I want to go with the men."

  Rubie wiped a tear out of her eye. "You're fifteen."

  "We'll station him in the rear with me," Malik said.

  Gregory's eyes turned into narrow beads. "That's not right."

  "I make the rules. When you're king, you can be in the front."

  A horn sounded outside the room. "The troops are ready," Malik said.

  Rubie led the way to a set of stairs. They ascended. At the top, a great balcony reached out of the castle wall.

  Rubie whispered to Simon. "The wall around us is concave, and if you raise your voice and speak clearly, the men will hear you."

  Then she pushed him to the front.

  Four thousand sets of eyes stared up at him.

  "Southlanders are sending a hundred thousand soldiers into Lynken in the spring," Simon said. "We need Nork!"

  A few murmurs arose from the crowd here and there. A man on the ground shouted, "Not our fight."

  Simon raised his voice even louder. "Quintak is leading the invasion. He has magic that will enslave the strongest minds. If Lynken falls, every one of you will be dead or a slave. Your children will be slaves. Southlanders will put Bractar on their wrists, and they'll have nothing, be nothing."

  A great roar rose up from the troops. Malik waved his hands to call for quiet.

  He shouted, "Prince Gregory is joining us for luck."

  The men smiled, and some howled. Gregory turned beet red in the face.

  Malik shouted, "Dismissed!"

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Simon, Rubie, and the others went back into the castle.

  "I have a young apprentice," Derrick said, "and we will do well in this war."

  "I've never understood this, that a master uses an apprentice in war," Rubie said.

  "It's just the way of things. A young man can easily wield magic to cause great devastation, but hardly even summon it. When you start getting older, summoning becomes easier, but wielding it is taxing."

  "But a master can duel, and fight, wage war, without an apprentice."

  Derrick nodded. "Just because something is taxing, that's not grounds for not doing it."

  Rubie turned to Simon. "I'm assuming you're leaving in the morning."

  "Well, that depends on how long it takes to get your army ready," Simon replied.

  "You said the first day of spring. For some of these men, this will be their last winter. They need to be with their families."

  "Fair enough." Simon bowed. "I would like to see your daughter's paintings, but we leave on the morrow."

  "Derrick, Malik, you're dismissed. You too, Gregory, of course." Rubie slid her arm around Simon's elbow, and they walked.

  She led him to a great chamber with paintings lining the walls. Simon looked at each one and smiled. Most of the pictures were of some kind of rage or maelstrom or pure anger.

  "Last time I saw her, she was fifteen and just beginning to paint. These must be newer pieces," Simon said.

  "Yes, these are new pieces. I expect the form and composition will change if a boy ever tames her."

  "She's what, eighteen now? No boys?"

  "No boy I've heard of or caught."

  The paintings seemed to go on forever. Simon looked at everyone. "Can you spare me a wagon? Your highness? Some of these I would like for my house, and some I'd like to gift to your brother."

  "We have to ask her that. They're not my mine. I can spare a wagon for you."

  Rubie pushed open a set of great doors to a huge room. Three sides of the expanse were glass, so was the roof. Emmy stood staring at a canvas measuring her next brush stroke. She had long brown hair lower than her shoulders and a fit body.

  "Emmy, look who's here!" Rubie said.

  Emmy turned. "Simon. You've not visited us in three years."

  Simon bowed. "My lady, I meant no disrespect. I'm a Captain. I have responsibilities. A family of my own."

  "Those are poor excuses."

  Rubie hissed. "Be nice."

  "Oh, I'm just teasing." Emmy smiled brilliantly. "Do you like my work?"

  "I love it!" Simon said. "It's like you're capturing the rage of battle in my heart and putting it on a canvas. I want some for Lyken's castle. I'm sure your uncle will want at least a few."

  "I've never given any of them away."

  "
If you wanted to sell them, you could. Lords and merchants would pay."

  "Yet, you want them for free?"

  "I pay for the paint and canvas," Rubie interrupted.

  "The people's taxes pay for them."

  "We've had this argument before, Emerald."

  Emmy raised three fingers on her right hand. "You may take three."

  Rubie said, "Five."

  Emmy shook her head. "Four is the most I can spare."

  "And I can choose them?" Simon asked with bright eyes.

  "None from this room, but four from the other room."

  "Perfect!"

  "How do you intend to store and transport them?" Emmy asked.

  "I figure a wagon would be best."

  Emmy shook her head. "The paint can chip and smudge. A blank canvas must be attached to each frame to protect it. Also, they're all in plain wooden boxes. You must hire an artisan to make proper frames for display."

  "Of course, my lady," Simon said.

  Emmy set her paints down, and the three of them walked into the room with most of the paintings.

  Simon went through the whole lot again, then picked out his four favorites.

  "I'll make sure the blank canvas is attached to these frames to protect them," Emmy said.

  "Thank you," Simon said. "Heather will be pleased."

  "Next time you see a lord, you'll show him my work?"

  "Yes, I'll spread the word."

  "Good, I tire of taxpayer-funded paint."

  Rubie sighed.

  * * *

  Prince William set a mean pace for them. The horses stayed strong and true. The men made no complaints. The Druid capital loomed on the horizon in blazing shades of orange, red, and purple. Snow fell on the travelers twice already, but the trees in the Druid's capital held onto their fall leaves.

  No riders rode out to greet them, but the gates had guards. They escorted the travelers to a temple set in the center of the city. The guards summoned Druids. One by one and in pairs, they started to fill the open air temple.

  An aged man stepped forward wearing a simple robe with a twisted branch from a tree in his left hand. "I'm Quann. In a few minutes, we can begin."

  Mathew stepped forward. "Juxta has spoken kindly of you on many occasions."

  "When my grandmother was behind siege walls and my father needed you, you were there for Lynken, thank you," Prince William added.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  The Druids began a simple chant.

  Mathew whispered in William's ear. "It's a thing called Truesight."

  William bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. The Druids were of one mind.

  "Luther is under the power of the Southlanders?" Quann asked.

  "As we said, yes," William said.

  "The most we're prepared to send is ten, and they must only be used as healers."

  William's left eye twitched. "Why?"

  "If we wield our magic against Luther, he can kill us with a look. It would be a slaughter."

  "Can we rally Kergia?"

  Quann nodded over and over. "Yes, rally Kergia, by all means."

  William turned and left. Mathew, Adam, and Clark followed.

  "This isn't right," William said.

  "The last time Druids used their magic on Luther," Mathew said, "he killed five."

  "Five!?"

  Adam asked, "Are we taking a day of rest today?"

  "I have never had Druid's Wine," Clark said.

  "What they serve in a tavern is a tenth what the Druids give away," Mathew said.

  "So I'll drink ten times as much."

  William started walking back to the temple. "They gave my father a skin full of pure Druid's Wine. They can surely do the same for us."

  The amphitheater stood almost empty. Quann sat on a bench near the base of the stairs.

  William approached him. "You gave my father Druid's Wine for the journey."

  "I have a keg at my house." Quann smiled. "You do understand a capful is enough? It is a strong stimulant, and if you drink it to get drunk, your heart will explode in your chest?"

  "Damn it," Adam said.

  Clark growled. "I second that damn it."

  "We would still like at least one skin full," William said.

  "Follow me," Quann said. "The keg I have is too much for me to ever use. Some mornings I have a few drops, and that is enough."

  They followed Quann, and he provided a full wineskin of the stuff. William's troop ended up in a tavern, for rest.

  * * *

  Simon was getting ready to go. The wagon was mostly empty. Emmy and Gregory stepped out of the castle, carrying a framed canvas in each hand. The canvas was blank on each side. Emmy said, "Unwrap them carefully, an artist could use the canvas on top."

  They loaded them into the wagon.

  Gregory pointed at Simon. "You know I'm old enough to duel? Derrick could heal us."

  "You have no friends your own age?" Simon asked.

  "Your boy, Nicholas, is the only kid my age that I've met who is not a servant or a man-at-arms."

  "When you come to Lynken, I'm sure if you ask Nicholas, he'll give you a fair fight."

  "Splendid."

  Simon looked at Micah and Gorge. "The wagon is mine."

  "You can have it," Micah said.

  They rode out of Nork heading south. Freezing winds tore into them, and some days the snow didn't stop. Days passed. They turned southeast just after the Lynken border, heading into Juxta's fiefdom. Riders met them as they approached the capital. They put their horses and the wagon away at Juxta's house, but Lisa told them Juxta was at the mine.

  "I'll find Juxta," Simon said. "Can you slaughter a chicken for my men?"

  "We have a fine tavern that only waters the cider down a bit," Lisa said, "and they always have stew. You can stay in our house if you like, Simon."

  "Understood, my lady, we're likely just staying the night anyhow."

  Micah raised his hand. "My lady, is the cider distilled?"

  Lisa nodded.

  "We're surely staying more than one day," Gorge said. "The cold from Nork still rests in my bones."

  "Do they sell kegs of the cider, my lady? I think Simon has coins," Micah asked.

  "By the keg, wholesale, it's a silver coin a gallon, and our smallest kegs are three gallons," Lisa said.

  Both Micah and Gorge stared at Simon. He stared back at them. Gorge said, "Surely we're worth three silvers to you."

  Simon let out a hearty laugh. "A five-gallon keg would be better: we've got the wagon after all."

  Lisa looked in the wagon. "All you have are blank canvases?"

  "The insides are painted. Rubie's daughter, Emmy, in Nork does wonders. I'd open them and show you, but I'm not sure I can get the coverings back on. You should go look at them. Two of these I'm hanging at my house, and two go to the castle, so you'll be able to see them."

  Lisa pointed off in the distance. "Find one of the menfolk to show you, Simon. The mine is a couple of miles. Take a horse."

  Micah said, "Gorge and I are going to the tavern."

  Simon found a man who agreed to show him. Juxta was outside the mine, using some Druidic chant to shape timbers to a uniform length. He noticed Simon and smiled.

  "Honest labor," Juxta said.

  "Yes," Simon said. "How much of the turquoise do we have?"

  "Well, my men insist on cutting the rock into cube shapes, and they're good at producing about a one-ounce cube each time. But my understanding is that a half ounce will be sufficient."

  "How many cubes do we have?"

  Juxta frowned. "I think five thousand. We cannot mine any faster, and this biting cold makes everything harder."

  "Five thousand isn't enough for Lynken's men, and I've secured four thousand from Nork, if the Cat Riders help, that'll be anywhere from three to five thousand."

  "I'll tell the men cutting cubes, to try to make them closer to three-quarters of an ounce instead of a full ounce. We really cannot mine fa
ster without opening a second vein."

  "Lynken's regular army does turns mining for coins in Lynken. Maybe some of them could help."

  "Aye, but they do it in summer. They stop when the weather turns to shit."

  "For protection from dark magic, they can likely be persuaded to mine in winter."

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Micah and Gorge passed out before sunset. Simon did not drink. Thoughts of Jason echoed in his mind. Juxta claimed the magic was unbeatable, but surely Simon could convince Jason that he was not an enemy.

  They rode out of Juxta's fiefdom a little after dawn, with a five-gallon barrel of the hard cider in the back of the wagon. Their meals meant stopping at farmhouses or inns. The nights were bitter cold. The keg became lighter with every passing day, but in winter, Simon considered it allowable.

  Freezing rain nearly stopped them in their tracks the night before they reached Lynken proper. The road was a sheet of ice on top of slippery mud. Simon steered the wagon off to the side on the grass. At least the horses could get some traction. The ice on the streets of the city was cracked and broken in most places, but had not been cleared. The horses struggled and slipped, but it was passable. Closer to the castle, work crews had cleared off the road, so it was better. The courtyard had stacks of ice in the corners.

  William walked out of the castle at the same time Simon pulled to a halt. The king said, "What of Nork? What of Juxta?"

  "Your sister is queen. Henry's mind has slipped away."

  "Not good, my sister's an idiot."

  Simon smiled. "She may be an idiot, but she's sending us four thousand soldiers, plus Malik their war general, and Prince Gregory."

  "He's fifteen now, if I recall," William said. "They're grooming him for the throne?"

  "He wants the job. Spends his time with the troops. He wanted to duel with me."

  "All good news! What of Juxta?"

  "He has five thousand one-ounce cubes of the turquoise. He says he cannot speed the mining without opening a new vein."

  William started counting on one hand. "Ten days' march to Juxta's fiefdom. Ten days back. That would give them maybe five or six weeks of mining."

  "The roads are shit, your highness. It'll be more than ten days' march."