by Beth Alvarez
He'd made a mistake in killing Lumia. She'd been an ally once. Perhaps they could have been allies again.
“One more thing,” Kifel said before Medreal could depart.
The stewardess faced him expectantly.
He returned his near-forgotten teacup to its tray. “Summon my generals and their messengers.”
“All of them, my liege?” Medreal asked.
“All of them,” Kifel confirmed. “War is at our door.”
The way Firal was greeted with hugs and happy tears was all too familiar. Had they been in the palace, instead of a dormitory room in the chapter house the mages now called headquarters, she might have found it eerie.
“I can't believe you're here!” Kytenia repeated, squeezing her until she couldn't breathe.
Firal tried to pry her off, to no avail. Rikka came to her rescue and wrenched Kytenia's arms loose, and Firal sucked in a gasp of a breath. To her relief, the hug Marreli gave her was gentle. “I already told you,” she said when the younger girl let go, “I'm not staying. I'm only here until this whole mess blows over. Is Shymin here?”
“She's a messenger today. The Masters are all in an uproar with these men marching on us.” Rikka grabbed at Firal's hand when she caught the glint of the star-gem in her ring. “What's that?”
Firal jerked her hand away and hid it in her skirt. “Is it true the Masters plan to send mages with the army? I overheard the blue magelings discussing it on my way in.”
“Yes, it's true.” Marreli tugged at her braids, though whether that expressed fright or excitement, Firal couldn't tell.
“All of us are going,” Kytenia said. Her bright hazel eyes darkened with concern. “Vahn will be furious when he hears.”
Firal blinked. “Vahn?”
“Vahn and Kytenia have been courting,” Rikka giggled. “I think he means to write Kytenia's father to ask for her hand. He fusses and frets over her as if they were already married.”
Kytenia flushed and averted her eyes. “He doesn't fuss like that,” she murmured, though the protest was weak.
“That boy and your friends will be fine, but you will certainly not be joining them.” Medreal stopped beside the girls with hands on her hips. Firal grimaced.
Rikka raised a brow and shimmied closer. Her fists settled on her hips in mimicry of Medreal's stance as she sized up the old woman. “Who is this?”
“Medreal, adviser and steward to King Kifelethelas.” Medreal lifted her chin. “I've been sent to collect the mages that are to accompany the army. And you, child, will be returning to the palace. The king wants you as far from that madness as possible.”
“I will go where I please,” Firal snapped. “I know their general. He wouldn't just move an army against the king like this. There must be some sort of misunderstanding.”
Medreal's mouth took a sour twist. “There's no misunderstanding, child. We know perfectly well why they rise against us. It was just yesterday the Underling queen was slain.”
Firal's heart dropped like a stone. “Lumia is dead?”
The stewardess gave an almost imperceptible shrug, spreading her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “It's foolish to move an army against a stronger foe for vengeance, but men do very foolish things in the name of women.”
An odd tightness rose into Firal's throat and she swallowed hard. Rune had left her alone in the border village and ridden off to war without saying goodbye? Hardly more than a day before, he'd sat up half the night working on the proposal he meant to give his father. With that in mind, she'd thought he might have changed his plans and departed early, believed his army a well-intentioned but stubborn group of men who refused to stay behind. But this? A war of vengeance started in the name of another woman?
He was the leader of the military force. If Lumia was gone, he was leader of everything. The people would want vengeance for their queen, but he should have quelled it. Why didn't he quell it?
She bit her lower lip and forced herself to straighten, breathing deeply to stifle the anger that chilled her inside and out. Cold and formal, she turned to give Kytenia a gentle hug. “Please be careful, all of you. I'll be waiting for you when you return.”
“There'll be thousands of men out there to protect us. I'm sure we'll be fine,” Rikka laughed, though her mirth sounded forced. She embraced Firal in turn and offered a bright smile as she stepped back to let Marreli take her place.
“Don't worry, Firal,” Marreli said, grinning up at her. “They'll never reach the city walls.”
Firal feigned a smile. Pretending to be happy was difficult. The ruin-folk had become her people in the same way the mages were still her people. No matter what, if blood was spilled, she was on the losing side. “Good luck. Try not to have too much fun without me.”
“Shall I escort you back to the palace?” Medreal asked.
“No, you attend to your work here. I can find my way. Thank you, Medreal.” Firal inclined her head to the older woman and left before her friends could stop her.
She retraced the path she’d taken through the meandering halls of the chapter house and paused when she heard her name. The hall behind was empty, as was the hall ahead, but one of the office doors stood ajar. She turned toward it to answer the summons, then stopped. It wasn't a summons; it was conversation.
“We can't forget they've sheltered her. She may not be as firm as we need, moving forward,” a woman said. Master Edagan.
Firal inched forward to peer through the gap. Beyond the door, Edagan and Anaide stood together, their backs turned to the door as they conversed with someone on the other side of a desk.
“You know that was the least of his intentions,” Anaide muttered. “Don't forget he was made Master just before the secession. Before the temple burned. His name was on the logbook of those requesting records be pulled. What other reason would he have to grant her shelter within the ruins?”
“You cannot be sure he meant ill,” Nondar's deep voice rumbled from behind the desk.
Edagan grunted. “You give him too much credit. He's never wanted anything more than to take the throne. What better way to solidify his claim than to claim the heir for himself?”
A chill tore down Firal's spine. She’d heard that before—the suggestion Rune meant to use her. The thought summoned Tren to mind and she shuddered. The Master mages were right; if they were wed and she was Kifel’s blood, it gave Rune a link to the throne in Ilmenhith that couldn’t be denied.
“He is cunning, I'll give him that,” Anaide said. “He's always excelled at manipulation. We were foolish to let the Archmage give him more power. She wanted a distraction to detract from her unethical practices. Well, she certainly got it.”
“And now we'll clean up after it,” Edagan sighed. “You saw them in Alwhen. How deeply is she snared?”
“That's not for me to say,” Nondar replied. “However, I don't think it coincidence he chose to travel with her. I believe there is some level of intimacy in their relationship.”
Anaide rubbed her brow in frustration. “Just what we need. The rightful heir to the throne trapped with the enemy's illegitimate child.”
“Peace,” Nondar said. “We don't know that for certain. We could not keep the pieces from being laid, but it's still possible for her to be freed from his grasp.”
“And how are we to do that?” Edagan asked. “We couldn't even keep him from persuading the Archmage to cast her out. The girl has suffered enough without being told she's become a tool toward her father's downfall.”
Firal's heart plunged and she took a half step backwards. She'd blamed the Archmage for that decision, for shattering the remnants of the life she'd had left after the temple burned. It had been him? Mind reeling, she tore herself away and hurried on. She slipped out of the chapter house and into the bustle of the street without noticing men and horses that flocked toward the castle's courtyards.
The Masters were right. She made an ideal tool in a game for power, and one Rune hadn’t been afraid to
use. Firal kept her head up and her face placid, moving through the crowds with a gliding grace. It was not until she reached her quarters that she let her facade fall, the first sob racking her body as she collapsed into the pillows on her bed.
The sun rode low on the horizon when the army moved from Ilmenhith in a long line of glistening silver armor framed by flags of blue and silver. Mages in every color rode single-file down the center of the column, most too nervous to show any pride at their position of honor in the middle of the army.
“In other times, battles were fought with honor and prestige in mind. The wars continued throughout the day and ceased when both sides had had enough. There was no fighting at night. They'd retreat to their camps in peace, then resume the fight the next day.” Vahn didn't look at them as he spoke, but Kytenia knew how concerned he was without seeing his face. He'd positioned himself near her on purpose. Shymin and Marreli rode some ways behind her, Rikka a few horses ahead. All three were as solemn-faced as she.
“If we're moving as far as the Masters seem to expect, we may not see any fighting until tomorrow morning, anyway.” Kytenia shifted on her horse. Riding was not difficult when such a group surrounded them. Soldiers on foot surrounded the mages and the few cavalry riders who led the column, and the horses moved of their own accord. A small relief, and one less thing to worry about. She suspected the beast wouldn't stop even if she fell asleep in the saddle.
Vahn shook his head. “I doubt they're all that far off. More Masters arrived at the palace today from the borders, and soldiers with them. They say Relythes has men on the move now, too. If his men had time to travel from Alwhen to the border after hearing things were unsettled, I'm sure this fight will be right at our doorstep.”
Kytenia gripped the saddle horn a little tighter. Though tensions between the eastern and western halves of the island always simmered, things had been calm for most of her life. But the mages had been on Kifel's side then, and Kifel had no interest in expanding his territory, content to maintain the borders his father had established. With mages answering to Relythes now, it was no surprise the balance had shifted and he was ready to strike. She toyed with the reins as they moved steadily farther from the city. “Are you nervous?” she asked at last, glancing at Vahn from the corner of her eye.
“Nervous?” He almost laughed. “I'm terrified. Wars are awful. Especially when you ride into them with someone you care about.”
Kytenia flushed and bowed her head. She hadn't thought things between them would grow serious as quickly as they had. She'd fancied him when they'd danced during the solstice ball, certainly, but things had changed the moment she read his first letter. It had been tender and unexpected, and she’d penned a reply as soon as things settled in the temple. She hadn't known whether or not he would receive it, with his battalion on the move, but he'd sent more. The letters that followed only grew more sweet.
In the same window of time, Marreli had asked about Ran, and each question had stirred an odd pang of emotion within her. Kytenia didn't fancy him like she once had, and they'd not seen him since the temple fractured. King’s son or not, he was still a Master, and she could only assume his absence meant he'd ended up on the other side of the divide. Perhaps it was better that way. It was bad enough for Vahn to face riding into battle alongside the woman he was courting. Riding alongside his childhood best friend as well might have been too much to bear.
“What are you thinking about?”
The question jerked her back to the present and she gave Vahn a sheepish smile. “Just the way everything has changed. I'm not even a high-ranked mageling, never mind a Master. I never imagined we'd be in a situation like this.”
Vahn nodded, staring toward the horizon. “Well, you don't have to worry. I'll protect you out there.”
Kytenia raised a brow. “And who will protect you?”
He laughed as the last rays of the sun winked out behind them. “I suppose we'll have to protect each other.”
The army traveled until sunrise and rested until midday while scouts continued ahead. From noon they traveled until sundown, when the officers at the front of the line stopped them and ordered them to take positions. The wagons that traveled at the rear of the company were drawn into a circle and campfires dotted the hillside. No one removed their armor and no one put down their swords, but everyone settled for the evening meal and laughed as though they weren't riding to war.
“The army has grown soft over the years,” Vahn told Kytenia in hushed tones, staring at his bowl of stew more than eating it. “Elenhiise is so secluded, and there's been no real need for battle since Kifel took the throne. They say we're riding against several thousand men. Our numbers may be greater than that, but if they're good soldiers, this may be a harder battle than the officers expect.”
The moon had just passed its peak when the sentries raised a panicked call. The camp burst into activity. Kytenia scrambled to her feet and scanned the slope of their encampment for the rest of her assigned group. Unable to ride and wield magic at the same time, the mages left the horses to the soldiers and clustered together on foot. Around each group, men sorted themselves into ranks.
Somewhere, someone roared an order to begin the march. Kytenia still hadn't seen anything. It wasn't until her company crested the hill that their opponent came into view, and her heart sank.
Marching into the plain between swells were men in dark armor, their numbers hard to distinguish, though moonlight glinted off their weapons. At least a thousand that she could see, and the flow of men over the opposing hilltop showed no signs of stopping.
“Mages!”
Kytenia gave a start and joined the other three mages she'd been grouped with as they seized energy. They worked in unison, tying the flows together, spinning them into a shield over their company. It was all but invisible, a faint ripple in the air all that gave it away. It took two tries for her to set her share of the energy into a cycle. She tuned out the sounds of the officers as they issued orders to the men around her, focused instead on her own deep breaths.
Her sister stood with another group close by and appeared no more at ease. Kytenia gulped and tried not to look at her again. Instead, she watched the men ahead of them. The king rode among the officers, his horse gleaming white in the darkness. It made his presence a clear, reassuring beacon in the night. Her eyes drifted farther and she paused when her gaze fell on Vahn, not far off. He gave her a reassuring smile and she had just enough time to return it.
A bugle sounded.
The long, clear note spurred the men onward with their weapons drawn and shields ready. Kytenia and the other mages had no choice but to move along with them, shifting the flows of the mage-shield overhead to make it follow. The whistle of an arrow drew her eyes overhead and she flinched in spite of herself when its flame-shrouded tip bounced off the transparent barrier. One arrow became hundreds, and her gasp was lost amid the war-cries as the energy shield above them shattered.
Wounded men fell in the crowd as others rushed to meet the enemy with steel. Gouts of flame burst forth from the hands of several mages as they pushed to the front lines. Others cast massive mage-lights into the air, where they hung as if on invisible strings to light the battlefield below.
Kytenia darted from one wounded soldier to another to tend what injuries she could, her feet carrying her ever farther into the chaos. Her heart skipped a beat when she found herself beside a man in dark armor, her hands on him before she realized he was one of the enemy. Her pulse raced. She was a healer, bound to help those in need. If she refused to aid the enemy, she was a traitor to her own beliefs. Yet if she answered her own calling, she'd be a traitor to the crown.
“Look out, mage!”
Kytenia wheeled and shrieked as she flung her hands out in defense. A burst of energy deflected the sword meant for her head and sent her attacker reeling.
She scrambled to her feet, picked up her robes, and ran. She'd gotten too close to the front lines. Men clashed in combat
around her, no matter which direction she tried to go. Frantic, she moved from cluster to cluster, desperate to find someone she knew.
“Kytenia!” Marreli's voice rang high and reedy over the sounds of battle. Kytenia migrated toward it like a moth to a flame. The smaller girl held out her hand, beckoning her into the circle of Eldani soldiers she moved with.
“How many are there?” Kytenia gasped as she gathered her thoughts enough to spin another mage-shield over the cluster.
“The captain said three thousand!” Marreli ducked under a soldier's elbow and wove her way toward the next group of men. “Have you seen the others?”
Kytenia ran to keep up. “I haven't seen anyone!” Someone grabbed the sleeve of her robe and she screeched before she realized it was one of their own.
“Best keep your wits about you, girl,” the soldier growled, turning his head to show the bloody gash in the side of his scalp.
Kytenia swallowed against the lurch of her stomach as she pressed her hands to his cheeks and let magic flow through him. In the span of the heartbeat the healing took, she looked around again.
Bodies littered the ground, not all of them whole, and more than one in colored robes. The soldier she tended tapped her arm to dismiss her and she let him go.
The sound of her name made her look up. Vahn jerked his blade from the enemy he'd felled and almost tripped over his feet in his haste to get to her. A clean slice decorated his cheek, blood on his dented armor indicating it wasn't the only cut he'd received. “You have to move back!” He caught hold of her arm and shoved her toward the thinning rear of the army.
“You need me!” She twisted to lay both hands on his face. He gasped as her magic coursed through him, electrifying and energizing as it mended his wounds.
“You're no use to anybody if you're not in one piece,” he said as he urged her onward. She stumbled, but didn't protest again. Vahn hovered close behind her, herding her toward safety.
