War for the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga Book 2)

by Olney, Matthew

  Do they really fear us that much? Luxon thought. He had heard the stories filtering in from across the kingdom of magic users being attacked. Now that he had witnessed the looks of fear and mistrust for himself, he knew that the stories were likely to be true.

  Finally, they reached the tower’s highest level. A large foyer was decorated with statues and exquisite pieces of art. The stained glass windows on this floor were taller than a man. Images of Delfinnia’s kings and heroes adorned the panes.

  The noblewoman stopped in front of a pair of large oak doors. Two members of the King’s Legion stood guard on either side, their silver armour contrasting with the purple of their tunics. At their hips hung short stabbing swords, and in their hands they held a long spear and large oval shields adorned with a silver background and the image of a golden sword – the badge of King Alderlade.

  They, too, gave Luxon an unpleasant look as they opened the doors. The woman bowed politely before hurrying off back down the spiralled corridor.

  Luxon braced himself, held his head and walked into the council chamber. A large circular table made of serpentine was in the centre of the oval room. Twelve high backed chairs were placed around its circumference. To Luxon’s surprise, only two of the chairs were occupied.

  Why the long wait if there is no one here to see me? he thought in annoyance.

  His nerves eased slightly as he recognised one of the men, who were in the middle of a heated debate. Of the child king there was no sign. The men stopped their hushed argument as they noticed Luxon standing in the doorway.

  The elder of the two stood and walked over to Luxon. He still moved with a limp. A broad smile was on Davik’s face, but his eyes gave away his tiredness. The man had fought at Eclin and had held the title of King’s Regent for the last five years. His rule had been anything but easy, for dealing with the aftermath of Danon’s return had tipped the realm into chaos.

  “It is so good to see you, my lad. I apologise for making you wait for so long. I trust you and Yepert are well?”

  Luxon smiled back; there was no fear or distrust in Davik’s eyes. The other man in the room however regarded him with barely concealed loathing. The man stood and cleared his throat.

  “Introduce us, Davik. Long have I wanted to meet the wielder responsible for the kingdom’s woes.”

  Davik frowned. “Sorry,” he mouthed to Luxon. Reluctantly he gestured to the man.

  “Luxon Edioz. This is Ricard, the Baron of Champia.”

  Ricard was a tall man. He wore a tunic of black felt lined with gold. His grey eyes shone with intelligence and his neatly trimmed short black hair and beard made him look dashing. The Baron of Champia was the king’s uncle and was well renowned for his prowess on the battlefield. His hatred for magic users was also famous.

  “I have told you time and again, Ricard, that Luxon was not responsible for the destruction of Eclin and all that has followed,” Davik added angrily. “If anything, he could help us.”

  Ricard scoffed.

  “Davik, your fondness for wielders is well known, but even you cannot deny that since that day, this realm has been in chaos,’ Ricard replied shortly. The baron pointed at Luxon. “This boy may be a wizard, but the realm would be a far better place without his kind constantly endangering us all. Danon is free because of him.”

  Davik shook his head in exasperation. Luxon felt an anger rise in his chest. He knotted his hands into fists; it took all of his willpower stay in control.

  “Sadly, I have pressing business elsewhere, so I will leave you two in peace,” Ricard said. “I’m sure we will meet again … wizard.” With a mocking bow, he turned on his heel and left the chamber.

  “I am sorry, Luxon,’ Davik said, gesturing to one of the vacant seats.

  Luxon sighed and sat down. “I had no idea how bad things were getting outside of Caldaria,” he said sadly. “I’ve lost count of the number of people who have looked at me and Yepert with fear in their eyes.”

  Davik sat heavily in one of the other chairs. He reached into his tunic and pulled out an envelope, which he then slid across the table’s shiny surface.

  “It’s worse than you know. This arrived this morning penned by the hand of our mutual friend Ferran of Blackmoor. I fear that magic users will not be safe. Attacks have increased, and now even Nightblades are feeling the wrath of the mob. Luckily, Ferran escaped, but the village of Resden was lost to Fell Beasts.”

  Luxon’s stomach knotted as he read the letter.

  Davik rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. His time as regent had been a disaster. It had been a role he had never wanted and one that he was never trained to do. He was a warrior; he preferred a straight fight to all the intrigues of politics. Ricard, however, was better at the game of kingship; Davik could feel his grip on the council slipping through his fingers. Even the eight-year-old king was falling away from his influence.

  “I may be losing control, but at least I can offer you some positive news,” he said with a weary smile, “and tell you why I summoned you to the capital.”

  Luxon put down the letter. Excitement filled him.

  “Do you have news?” he asked, some enthusiasm returning to his voice. He had lost hope of finding his mother.

  Naively, he had hoped to find her after the crowning of the king, but he had quickly discovered that she had hidden her trail well. Luxon’s mother had been a source of mystery throughout his life. She had answers to questions he had to know.

  “A strange woman was spotted at the gates of the fortress of the Watchers. The woman apparently wanted to pass through the gates and enter the Great Plains. The King’s Legion commander on duty tried to stop her. She … resisted.”

  “Magic?” Luxon asked.

  Davik nodded in the affirmative.

  “Six legionaries were left unconscious but unharmed, and the fortress gates had been forced open. The commander sent riders out to find her, but after a few hours of searching they were forced to turn back after coming under attack by one the plains tribes.”

  Luxon sat back in his chair and stroked his chin.

  “What makes you think it was my mother? Perhaps it was a witch fleeing persecution or perhaps a rogue mage?” His mind raced. Why would his mother have travelled so far to the southwest? Why now?

  “The commander said she had an emblem on a broche about her neck. He drew a sketch …”

  Davik pulled another piece of paper from his tunic pocket and passed it to the wizard. On it was a rough drawing of a golden serpent upon a blue background.

  “The sigil of the Diasect!” Luxon’s blue eyes widened as he recognised the image.

  He quickly stood from his chair, the paper gripped tightly in his hand. After years of dead ends, now he had a solid lead. Finally, he had a place to start. He would travel to the Watchers, he would traverse the vast Great Plains, and he would find his mother and get the answers he sought. Davik stood, too, and held his hand up.

  “Before you go, Luxon I must ask something of you. Do you remember the sigil stone we retrieved in Eclin?”

  Luxon paused. The last time he had seen the stone was on the day of the king’s coronation. When he had touched it, visions of war and a sword shining brightly in the darkness had burned into his mind.

  “I do,” he answered warily. The visions still appeared in his dreams.

  “King Alderlade wants answers,” Davik said pacing the room nervously. “I want answers. According to Esma, his guardian, his highness dreams every night of the stone. In fact, he dreams of it so often that he rarely sleeps through the night. She grows concerned about his health.

  “I have caught him staring at it for hours in the royal vaults. Whatever it is, its grip over the boy seems to be growing stronger.”

  “Perhaps my mother will have some answers,” Luxon said thoughtfully. “From what I’ve learned in my research of the sigil stone, the Diasect was charged with hiding it away.”

  The answers they both sought were with his mother. No
w all he had to do was find her, and that would not be easy.

  3.

  City of Kingsford

  Sophia Cunning pulled the hood of her cloak tighter around her head. The marching soldiers ignoring her as they passed. Quickly, she moved from the doorway and crossed the narrow cobbled street to hide once again in the shadows of an alleyway. She narrowed her eyes as the man she had been tailing appeared in the inn’s doorway. She could tell he was worse for wear from drink as he staggered slightly and gripped the doorway with a shaky hand to stop himself from falling over. In the distance, the sounds from the docklands carried on the breeze. Ships bells tolled out to warn each other of their presence in the misty darkness.

  The man was dressed in a smart red velvet tunic and white breeches. A white cape, which reached his knees, hung from his broad shoulders. Around his waist was a leather belt complete with a sword in its scabbard.

  Cautiously, he walked down the path leading away from the inn and into the street. At this time of night there was little in the way of traffic; only a group of pedlars and their pony were visible. A laughing band of drunken sailors staggered past Sophia’s hiding place. One of the inebriated men vomited, causing his friends to bellow with laughter and mock him mercilessly. All the while, Sophia kept her gaze fixed on her target. Slowly, he staggered off down the street, Sophia close behind. She kept to the shadows as she stalked him. Side streets and dimly lit doorways were her friends.

  She followed him for a few streets until he reached a narrow crossroads. Silently, she slipped into a doorway and once more waited. To her mild surprise, the man went from acting like a drunkard to someone who had never touched a drop of ale in his life.

  “Where are you, Sintinius?” the man whispered into the darkness. “My master has little patience for your games and neither do I.”

  A quiet mocking laughter came from the shadows.

  “So the baron sends you to do his dirty work, does he? I had hoped to meet him face to face. We have much to discuss.”

  A thin tall man stepped out from a nearby doorway into the clearing of the crossroads. He wore a long black cloak similar to the one Sophia wore, and his features were hidden by a thick hood. Out of the shadow cast by the material, two white dots were visible. Sophia stifled a gasp as she realised that what she was seeing was a pair of eyes.

  The smartly dressed man coughed nervously before holding his head high.

  “Lord Accadus could not leave Retbit safely,” the man said in a shaky voice. “The King’s Legion would have had him arrested as soon he set foot outside of his lands. There is a war on, you know.”

  He was clearly nervous around Sintinius, and Sophia could not blame him. Just looking at the strange tall figure with the white shining eyes was making even her uncomfortable, and she had hunted witches and Fell Beasts.

  “I do not care if Accadus is afraid for his safety,” Sintinius replied dismissively. “I sailed all the way from Sarpia for this little meeting.”

  Accadus’s man shifted uncomfortably under that unblinking gaze.

  “Tell your master that my forces are ready, we only await his signal. I trust that he will keep to his end of the bargain. I do not take treachery lightly and my people have become accustomed to –” Sintinius paused before sniffing the air. “You were followed, you fool,” he snapped.

  He raised his arm and pointed back down the street, straight at Sophia.

  Accadus’s man spun around and drew his sword. Just as he was about to advance upon Sophia, the strange tall man behind him dashed forward. A vicious looking dagger sliced through the man’s throat. It happened so fast that not even a gargled scream emanated from his ruined oesophagus.

  Sophia tried to run but Sintinius moved faster. He caught her nimbly by the hair, causing her to scream in pain, and threw her to the stony ground. He placed a boot onto her back to keep her pinned to the floor.

  “You will regret this. I cannot allow you to live,” he hissed into her ear.

  Sophia tried to struggle, but his grip was too strong. She reached into her cloak pocket with a free hand and fingered the hilt of the dagger tucked inside. Sintinius grip lessened slightly as he raised his own blade high to deliver a killing blow. Sophia took her chance, drew her dagger and stabbed its point deep into her attacker’s leg. The pressure eased slightly as Sintinius reeled backwards.

  Sophia scrambled to her feet, shrugging off the cloak still trapped under her attacker’s foot. She reached into a pouch at her waist and threw a smoke bomb at her feet. The dark vapour enveloped them both. By the time it had cleared, Sophia was gone.

  * * *

  Sintinius stared at the now empty alleyway. His eyes narrowed into slits. On the floor and still under his boot was the woman’s cloak.

  He picked it up and sniffed it. He breathed in the woman’s perfumed aroma and put the scent into his memory. Accadus had sent a fool to do his work and now their plans were at risk, something that he could not allow. Sintinius stalked down the street towards the city’s docks. He would sail to Retbit and see the baron in person. As he walked, four cloaked figures silently fell into step with him.

  “Take this,” he commanded. “Find the woman who it belongs to and silence her.” He gave the cloak to one of the figures.

  “Your will be done, eminence,” they replied as one before drifting back into the shadows.

  * * *

  Sophia ran as fast as she could through Kingsford’s streets. She could feel strange eyes upon her, and she shook her head angrily. The strange man’s creepy white eyes had spooked her greatly. She kept running until she had crossed most of the city. Finally, she came to a halt outside of the tavern in which she had taken up lodgings. Her breaths came in ragged gasps. If the man was not alone then the city gates would now be watched for her presence. She glanced around the empty streets for any sign of pursuit before taking a deep breath and entering the brightly lit tavern. It was past midnight and most of the patrons had staggered off to their beds or to their homes. Only the tavern keeper was awake and active.

  The barman looked up from cleaning glasses when he noticed her standing in the doorway.

  “Rough night?” he asked. Her hair was ruffled and a number of small cuts were on her cheek from where she had hit the ground.

  She walked through the tavern, carefully stepping over the tavern owner’s dog, which was snoring happily next to the fireplace.

  “You have no idea,” Sophia replied before heading up the small flight stairs that led to her room.

  4.

  Luxon enjoyed the quiet. It set his mind at ease and allowed him to think. He was sat under a tall oak tree, which stood in a small clearing at the side of the King’s Road. In the distance stood the city of Sunguard, its high towers gleaming in the sunlight. He was glad to have left the capital. The hushed tones and unfriendly looks from its citizens had been unnerving, to say the least. The trip had been worth his unease, however, as he now had something to go on. He would find his mother, not for any childish need, but to set his own mind at ease. To all appearances, Luxon looked like any normal nineteen year old. His shoulders had broadened, his voice was deeper, and sandy coloured stubble now grew on his strong chin. To those that knew him well, however, his eyes belied the truth. His body may have been young but his soul was old. His imprisonment in the Void had felt like an eternity. For every hour that had passed in the real world, a year had passed in the Void. He had only been trapped there for two weeks, but to him it had felt like centuries.

  In the years since his return from that foul place, he had been plagued by nightmares and strange fits in which he lost control of his power.

  Now he and Yepert were travelling back north to the mage realm of Caldaria. He would need the advice of his mentor – the city’s grand master – before he rushed off after his mother’s trail. As tempting as it was, he had made a life for himself in the city. Hannah would be waiting for him, as would his other friends.

  He smiled as Yepert returned from h
is visit to the nearby roadside inn. As usual, his best friend was singing a song from his homeland; they never failed to make him chuckle.

  “The silly old fishwife leapt from her stool as the mermaid ran into view la le la le lo … fancy an apple?” Yepert threw Luxon a green variety of the fruit.

  He caught the apple easily and took a large bite out of it. The tangy juices sated some of the thirst he was feeling.

  “Any trouble in the inn?” he asked, standing up and patting the dust from his trousers.

  “Nope. I didn’t wear my mages cloak. I did hear an interesting conversation between the inn owner and a traveller.”

  Luxon raised an eyebrow.

  “Do tell,” he said.

  Yepert shrugged his shoulders as he devoured his apple.

  “The traveller was saying how he spotted strange folk landing on the Marble Shore. He said that the ships were in the shape of serpents. They were not of Yundol or Delfin design. He then went on to describe his bowel movements and – whoa, that guy has some issues.”

  Luxon looked away and watched the distant horizon to the south. Black ominous clouds were forming and he could make out the bright flickering of lightning. A storm was coming from the south. The visions of the men in strange armour and serpents flashed in his mind.

  “You alright, Lux?” Yepert asked in concern.

  Luxon shook his head as though to clear it. He smiled at his friend weakly. The sense of dread in his gut was growing by the hour. Something was coming, something that promised to bring pain with it.

  “We should hurry and get back on the road,” he replied weakly. “I don’t like the look of those storm clouds.”

  * * *

  As night fell, the two men spurred their horses into a gallop. They had tarried on the road for too long and when the light fades, horrors emerge from the blackness. The storm Luxon had spotted earlier in the day had now struck with ferocity. Heavy rain hammered down upon the stone of the road, and howling winds caused the trees lining its sides to creak and groan.