King of Blades

by Ryder Bailey

  Jarlin killed the would-be assassin with one stroke.

  Anil changed the tune of her humming slightly to calm the rest of the group as people screamed. The room grew quiet as Jarlin thoroughly searched the body. He shook his head when he was done.

  "Nothing," he muttered. He motioned to the other guards. "Let's get him out of here."

  "How?" one of the other guards asked. He had looked rather afraid until Anil had started humming the second tune.

  Jarlin thought a moment, then pointed at the window. "We'll have to dump him into the castle yard."

  It took them several minutes to get the body through the narrow window. With a final grunt they managed to succeed, they all heard the thump of the body hitting the ground far below, even over the distant sounds of battle.

  Anil knew most the other people in the room were staring at her, including Jarlin. She wasn't sure how he had known what to do so quickly, but they were all fortunate that he had.

  Still humming, Anil traced the mark of magic on her son's cheek.

  ***

  Coulta tried not to think of what Wildas might be dealing with as he fought among the mages. The initial wave of mortal soldiers had given way to stronger enemies. Lesser necromancers had taken the field an hour into the fight, and they grew stronger the more people they killed. The magic was a challenge to counter, but they were still mortal. Any wound that would kill a mortal man would fell a necromancer just as quickly, and the lesser ones didn't bother to shield themselves.

  But the lesser necromancers gave way to stronger ones. They could shield themselves and still fight, making the fight harder still. Some attackers started making it through the defenders to the wall or the gates.

  But the guild members on the walls killed them with arrows and other deadly projectiles. Whenever a group made it to the wall they dumped boiling water or other hot liquids onto them. The Shifters flew overhead and dropped flaming, heavy, or sharp objects on the necromancers as they marched up from the ships. Dragon attempted to set the ships alight but they seemed to resist destruction.

  By mid afternoon the field was muddy with blood and muck and there seemed to be no end to the procession of necromancers. Then a loud voice rang out in the language of Dyrai and the necromancers stopped fighting. Confused, the defenders stopped, too.

  From the midst of the necromancers stepped one that seemed to tower over the others and filled those on both sides of the battle with dread. His army parted for him, practically stumbling over each other to remove themselves from his path.

  "I have come to duel once and for all," the figure declared, "with the most powerful sorcerer in the world. Where is he?"

  Coulta watched Shelton step forward, looking completely unworried, though his armor was filthy from fighting. Unable to watch his mentor duel alone after a tiring battle, Coulta stepped forward also. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and glanced over to see Wildas watching him from not too far away. Coulta could nearly feel his fear, but he merely nodded briefly to him before continuing.

  "Ah, yes, I had forgotten there are really two of you, now."

  "Will you fight both of us, Kemale?" Shelton demanded.

  "At once, if it will make you feel as if you have half a chance," the necromancer replied. He yelled something in his language and the battle resumed, though their part of the battlefield remained clear. "Now, allow us to begin."

  He didn't wait for either of them to ready themselves. A bolt of red light came streaking toward them. Coulta dove out of its way and Shelton held a shimmering violet shield of light over himself. The red light hit it and seemed to be absorbed. Shelton staggered slightly under the obvious force of the magical contact.

  Coulta turned his gaze back to Kemale and sent a bolt of the same kind of power back at the necromancer, though his was black tinged with silver. Kemale waved it aside as if it was hardly a bother, but he still created his own magical shield. Barely in time to stop two balls of blazing violet fire from hitting him.

  The ground shook as Kemale laughed. Coulta staggered and caught his balance too late to stop the red light from wrapping itself around his throat. Momentary panic set in as he realized he couldn't breathe, but he forced himself to be calm and send his magic to untangle the magical noose that had been tied around him. He fell gasping to his knees as his magic shredded the red light apart.

  Shelton cried out beside him as he was flung to the ground by a powerful wind. But he immediately regained his footing and sent more magic at Kemale, who dodged it easily. Coulta stood again, and as he did he threw a wave of magic directly at Kemale.

  For the first time something made contact with the necromancer, throwing him off balance and almost to the ground. Shelton tried to take advantage in the moment but Kemale was still able to bat his violet fire away with his shield.

  In the end, Coulta wasn't quite sure how long it went on like that, them exchanging attacks with Kemale and being hit the most. It seemed to take both hours and minutes for the violet gems in Shelton's armor to start turning white. Coulta could see that Shelton was exhausted. He looked as pale as those once-violet gems and it took him a few moments to finally push himself back to his feet after a particularly rough attack from Kemale. From what Coulta could see, he only had two small, energy-filled gems left on his Altmyr armor now.

  He was going to die to defeat Kemale, and he wouldn't be able to destroy the necromancer. Kemale was too powerful.

  "Right then, catch your breath for a moment," Kemale called in a bored voice. "No fun just to kill you off now."

  Shelton took a deep breath and nodded to himself.

  "No."

  He glanced at Coulta, his violet eyes intense. "I'm going to do all I can."

  "No," Coulta repeated, keeping his eyes locked on Shelton's. "It will kill you."

  "I know. This is my duty."

  "It's mine."

  "It will kill you, too."

  "But I'll take him with me."

  Shelton stared at him for a moment. "Coulta –"

  "Go. This is what I need to do. Don't," he added when Shelton started to argue. "It's useless for us both to die. I have a better chance of killing him. You know I'm right."

  Shelton was silent for a long moment, then he gripped Coulta's shoulder and murmured, "I know."

  Coulta returned the firm grip with a nod. "Take care of them. Especially Wildas."

  Shelton nodded. "I will. May the gods be with you."

  "I hope so," Coulta said grimly.

  Shelton let him go and backed away. Coulta couldn't read the expression on the older sorcerer's face, but he didn't want to.

  "So the great Wielder of the Violet Power resigns from combat," Kemale taunted. "They'll be time to pay later with your life. That is what we're dueling for, you realize. I'll deal with the cursed one first."

  Coulta stepped forward, but before he could speak or act, the ground began to move and transform. The trampled grass was gone, replaced by bare stone, and the stone began to rise into the air. Coulta fought to keep his balance on the floating slab of rock as it climbed quickly into the air. He didn't look down, but he felt the air grow thinner, making breathing more difficult.

  Kemale easily stood on the rock, watching Coulta. "Get your balance," he commanded. "I want this to last a while."

  Coulta wasn't completely balanced when the first attack of blood red fire came at him. He blocked it quickly, then sent his own fire at the necromancer. But Kemale had placed another shimmering red shield before himself that surrounded him. The shield absorbed Coulta's fire and turned it back at him.

  Coulta ducked in time to avoid being hit, and that was when he noticed that Kemale's shield didn't fully connect with the stone at his feet. It wavered up and down, sometimes nearly touching the stone, and sometimes lifting almost to Kemale's knees.

  Heat shot through the stone, making Coulta pull his hands away and stand up. He tried to send a dragon up over the top of the shield, but Kemale raised the shield and sp
lit the dragon image in half.

  But when he raised it, it lifted once more to Kemale's knees.

  When Coulta blocked Kemale's next attack, he was dismayed to see flecks of violet light in his magic. He was finally drawing on the stones Shelton had infused for him, which meant he was weakening faster than he had wanted to. He needed to find a way to end this soon.

  Necromancers were just men, that's what he'd been told. So Kemale had the same weaknesses as every other person Coulta had ever fought. And he didn't wear armor.

  And, no matter what Kemale seemed to think, he was clearly tiring. He had started attacking more slowly as Coulta and Shelton had tired, though Coulta hadn't thought much of it until that moment. He had let Shelton and Coulta have their pause. He'd waited for Shelton to back away. From what Coulta understood of the necromancer, that didn't seem like something Kemale was usually one to do.

  As strong as he seemed, he was still weaker than he wanted them to believe.

  The idea came to him in an instant, and he didn't take any time at all to think it through. Instead of blocking Kemale's next attack, he dove toward the stone, drawing a dagger as he moved. His magic propelled him under Kemale's shield and he rolled to his back.

  The shield came down, sending pain shooting through Coulta's abdomen, but he brought his dagger up behind Kemale's knee, using all the strength he had to slash and cut, until Kemale fell – and so did the stone.

  Coulta tried to hold on as the slab of stone spun wildly through the air as it dropped, digging his fingers into any rough spot that he could, but the slick blood all around him was making it difficult.

  He came off the stone before it hit the ground, but from what height he didn't know. He felt pain as he landed on the frozen ground and started to tumble, but then he felt nothing. Death was what he expected, and he was confused to find himself staring up at the sky, unable to move. Surely if he was dead, he wouldn't enter the Spirit Realm this way.

  But he wouldn't be alive for long, he was sure. He couldn't move at all, and he was sure the shield had given him one of those fatal belly wounds Myri was always worried about.

  Myri.

  Would she be fine without him? Of course she would. So would Anil. But Wildas?

  I did it to save you. All of you. I'm sorry.

  He wouldn't be able to see Kyla and Kylar grow. Wouldn't be able to pass on the magic to their other future children.

  A fog began to form around him and he knew it was finally the end. Then the fog became one great rainbow surrounding him.

  There were worse things to see before death, he supposed.

  From the colored fog stepped a massive creature – no, several smaller ones. Horses? They drew closer... Maybe he'd be trampled and finally die... Or maybe his wounded mind was making him see things that weren't real...

  A black muzzle came into view and several other horses entered his frame of vision... no... unicorns...

  Unicorns?

  They lowered their heads and touched their horns to his body... Would they... stab him to death? Was this... how his mind... was choosing to end his life?

  The pain came in a wave. He screamed, then everything went dark and silent.

  19

  Jaimathan felt Dragon fall. They had been shooting him with horrid arrows and covering him in cruel necromantic magic, but it took hours for him to finally take a fatal blow. It was a coordinated attack from the powerful necromancers still on the ships. The magic had consumed him like fire, but he had fought until the very end.

  Not even the magic keeping the ships from being damaged by fire or weapon could hold them afloat against the sheer weight of a dragon falling upon them. Dragon landed squarely across the hull of the lead ship and took it to the bottom of the river with him.

  And Jaimathan turned away from the other souls he had been guided and latched on to Dragon's, pulling with all his mental and magical might to get his soul from the grips of the necromancers. He could feel himself growing weaker the harder he fought. He would need to stop trying to save as many as he could soon.

  A silver light surrounded him and some other powerful force began helping him to pull Dragon's soul into the Spirit Realm. The moment Dragon was safe to rest in peace, he turned back to the others in the Mist, but a silver light stopped him.

  "Rest, child," a beautiful voice instructed him. "We will finish this. The time has come."

  Jaimathan didn't object. The Mist before him was filled with pure white souls being guided by countless silver forms. Distantly, he could see the dark red forms of the necromancers being pushed back by more silver forms, pushed back until they vanished from the Mist.

  He opened his eyes to the bright courtyard and was unsurprised to find himself surrounded by fairies. A number of them seemed to be washing his face with damp leaves. He licked his lips, expecting to find them dry after so long without water, and tasted something sweet.

  "Thank you," he told them, not caring if they could understand. "I'm just going to rest her a while," he added before he turned to lay on his side in the dirt. Somehow, he trusted the silver figures he'd just seen in the Mist, and he didn't mind sleeping in the garden of the courtyard for a while.

  The fairies continued to hover and tend to him as he fell into a deep sleep.

  ***

  "He's not dead," Wildas declared.

  Shelton shook his head. "You saw that stone fall out of the sky. There's no way he could have survived that."

  "Like there was no way he survived being possessed last year?" Wildas demanded. The lines of magic were gone for the first time since they had learned about the power shares, leaving his neck oddly pale under the dirt of battle. Were they gone because Wildas had used up his magic, or had the marks died with Coulta?

  "The broken curse sustained him then," Shelton reminded him. "This time he was already exhausted."

  "Then why did you make him fight alone?"

  Shelton was too tired to let the Grand King's anger affect him. "He wouldn't let me continue. He knew he could do it alone."

  "So you let him, and if he dies, it's on you."

  "I already know that. But it was what he wanted. If I had kept fighting I would have died without –"

  "Then you should have died!" Wildas yelled, causing a hush to fall around them in the Great Hall where the injured were being tended to. It was where Shelton had found Wildas searching for Coulta after the Asirim warriors from Nairiume had mysteriously arrived and taken over the decimation of the necromancers while at the same time ordering the defenders to rest.

  Shelton could see that there was no speaking to Wildas, and part of him knew that Wildas was right; he shouldn't have let Coulta die instead of him. Coulta was young. He had a family to be a part of. It should have been Shelton's time.

  Shelton bowed. "As you say, Your Majesty," he said, then turned and left the castle.

  ***

  Silence reigned over the Hall even after Shelton left. Some people were staring openly at Wildas, while others were apparently trying to avoid his gaze. Wildas, however, was staring at the door through which Shelton had exited, not speaking but with a look of anger still on his face.

  Myri was appalled by what she had heard. Grand King or no, Wildas had let his emotions speak for him and had said one of the cruelest things imaginable to someone who was his greatest supporter, mentor, and parent.

  She picked up the hem of her skirt and marched over to where he still stood. He didn't have time to turn his attention to her before she slapped him across the face with her marked hand, causing the sound to echo through the silent Hall.

  The look he gave her was of complete disbelief, with some pain mixed in. She snorted and walked away, back to her patients. She looked back just in time to see him leave the Hall.

  ***

  Shelton sat in meditation at the base of Ardan's statue, trying to find some peace with what he had done – failed to do. He would always live with the regret of allowing Coulta to sacrifice himself, even if he
told himself it was what Coulta had wanted. Would Wildas ever forgive him, either?

  He opened his eyes when he heard someone coming down the path and was only slightly surprised to see Wildas.

  "Could I join you?" Wildas asked.

  "You're the Grand King."

  Wildas sighed as he sat down. "Shelton, I'm sorry."

  Shelton raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

  Wildas ran a hand over his face and appeared to flinch. "What I said was horrible, and I'm sorry."

  "He didn't want you to be without both of us," Shelton said gently. "What he did was for you, to protect you and Myri and Anil and Kylar and Kyla, and the whole country. He knew I couldn't do it, and he wanted someone to be here for you."

  Wildas took a deep breath, but it was shaky. "I just can't believe it until I see him," he whispered. "With the soul-link, I think I should be able to feel it. I would know."

  "No one knows if the soul-links work that way," Shelton pointed out carefully.

  "I would know," Wildas repeated, his voice hushed.

  Shelton didn't push, just nodded. How long would it take the searchers to find his body?

  "How did the Nairs know about the attack?" Wildas asked, looking out at the debris in the river. What was left of the ships from Dyrai and their crews was drifting down the river to the sea.

  "I don't know," Shelton replied. "We can ask them when we thank them."

  They both sat there in silence after that for what felt like quite a while, until Rohan ran down the path toward them.

  "Coulta was just brought back to the castle."

  Shelton saw Wildas draw a deep breath and nod, a look of pain crossing his face.

  "He's alive."

  "What?" both Shelton and Wildas demanded at once.

  "A herd of unicorns brought him back, too," Rohan went on.

  Wildas was on his feet immediately. "Let's go."

  Shelton ran with them back to the Great Hall, the excitement of the moment giving him new strength. When they arrived they found a herd of unicorns outside the castle in all the colors horses existed in. Inside was another unicorn, a great black stallion standing regally in the center of the Great Hall. Once again, the Hall was silent.