The Elementalist (The Kothian Chronicles Book 1)

by Andrew Wood

  He hoped perhaps that other opportunities would arise at capturing the young elementalist. Now he knew where he was hiding out, he could send others to try. If only he had teleporters powerful enough, to use the doorway Davan had discovered, he could himself be there and back in a matter of moments with the youngster in hand. With power like that at his command, he would be unstoppable. It was this thought that made him smile; something he did very rarely.

  For now, he needed to think how to get the Kothian Government official under his command, to best play his part. He would firstly need to start rumours, that he thought would not be too difficult, as there were already some doing the rounds. Once they were flying about, he needed his man to make formal accusations against the king.

  After pouring himself a glass of wine, Gorius sat at his desk, pushing aside a pile of papers to clear some room for his glass. He then leaned back and concentrated. Using the link given via the special rings, he could see his 'puppet' in Kothia. He sent forth the message that the king was hiding magicians in a ruined castle far to the south. The man was to spread this news, to everybody that mattered as soon he could.

  Satisfied he had set wheels in motion, he finished his drink, whilst he browsed through the papers he had pushed aside. These were the evaluations of the latest intakes. All magicians, but none with any particularly useful skill, or of any great power. Naturally, he could still make use of them, and with a little tuition, one or two might prove useful in their own right. For now, he would have to bide his time, making raids over the border with conventional soldiers, and planting seeds of rebellion in the Kothian government.

  The early indications of his raiding parties were all positive, and already the Kothian king was being put under pressure to deal with the problem. Each time another innocent Kothian was murdered, or another home burnt, Gorius' opposite number was put further under pressure. The more he could have this happen, the better.

  Gorius had the man controlling the Eken continue to watch the castle ruins. If this is where the magicians were hiding out, he needed to find out the kind of numbers opposing him. There were many questions to which he needed answers. Moreover, if the Kothian king was aware of these magicians, were they really there at his order? If so, did that mean he was building his own army of magicians, or was it merely a humane way of dealing with them?

  With the turmoil of the previous day behind them, the three young magicians in Pitford prepared for their first group lesson with Darion. Now they had to remain together no matter what, they would all be taught by the rather brash elderly man. They walked the corridor together, only to be confronted by a familiar face. Kurtis Raston and his group of followers stood in the corridor ahead of them. Mikel prepared himself for another confrontation, and was surprised when Kurtis stepped forward with his hand held out.

  "No hard feelings. I am glad you are all back safely. Your little escapade is the talk of the place," Kurtis told them. It was Maxim who stepped forward and shook the older boy's hand. "Thank you," he said rather timidly.

  "I'm still supposed to help you with your reading and writing. Ramon has already been to see me this morning about it," Kurtis told them. Only now, instead of doing so in the morning, he was now to spend an hour in the afternoon with Maxim.

  "Yeh, well we will all be there when you do," Mikel added, still not sure of the other lad’s intentions.

  "Yes, so I understand," Kurtis replied.

  As nice as Kurtis had appeared, there was just something about him that Mikel neither liked nor trusted, and that feeling seemed to mirror in the behaviour of Shadow. The wolf watched him carefully, almost crouching low as if ready to pounce at moment's notice. "No I don't like him either," Mikel said, understanding the wolf's concerns.

  Once Maxim and the others had found the room allocated to Darion, they knocked at the door, little surprised to see the old man being his usual abrupt self. "Where the bloody hell have you three been. I've sat here waiting for ages," the old man snapped.

  "No you have not," Mikel replied stepping through the doorway.

  "Mouthy little sod," Darion grumbled. "How do you know how long I been waiting?"

  If truth were told, Mikel didn't know, Zack however was much more observant.

  "We know you have not been here long Darion, because you are still wearing your cloak. The fire has only just been lit, and the boards are still covering the windows," Zack stated looking about the room.

  Darion just grumbled something about Zack being a smart ass, and started removing the boards. The daylight immediately brightened the room up, and the three pupils took their positions. Sat at a long desk facing the front of the room they waited for Darion to start.

  "What the bloody hell you three gawping at?" the man asked as he took down the last of the window boards.

  "Waiting for you to teach us everything you know Sir," Zack said politely.

  "That shouldn't take long," Mikel quipped.

  Darion waved a hand, and Mikel yelped as he felt a sharp pain around the back of his head, as if someone had slapped him. "Ouch! What was that for?" he asked playing all innocent.

  Darion just chuckled to himself as he walked aimlessly around the room.

  "Can you teach me how to do that," Mikel asked rubbing the back of his head.

  It was clear Darion was not used to teaching. The old man shuffled his way around the room, mumbling to himself, as the three youngsters turned their heads, watching him.

  "Perhaps if you start with Maxim Sir," Zack suggested.

  "I believe you were helping him with control, perhaps it is best to begin with that," the young royal added.

  After two more laps of the room, Darion finally stopped and with the flick of his fingers produced a small flame. "You...The ginger one, whatever your name was...the dangerous one...," Darion mumbled.

  "Maxim Sir...My name is Maxim."

  "Whatever...I want you to concentrate on this flame here, and make it move over to your hand...When you done that I want you to move it from one hand to the other...then back...Got it? Good." Darion said, without even giving Maxim chance to answer.

  Maxim did however concentrate as hard as he could. "That's it Max," he heard Zack say, as he carefully watched the small flame move over towards his hand. Once Maxim had it hovering just above his left hand, he concentrated to move it the other hand, just as Darion had requested.

  "Hmm... not bad," was as good as a well done from the old man.

  "What other skills you got...you... the lad that sounds and dresses like a girl," Darion pointed to Zack.

  Mikel Sniggered at the remark, only to receive another magical clip round the back of his head.

  "Will you stop doing that!" he cursed.

  "I can teleport Sir," Zack replied to the initial question.

  "I know you can bloody teleport you dope; I've seen you do that...What else can you do?

  Zack shrugged, "I do not know Sir. Danton said he would teach me a few tricks..."

  "Did he now?"

  "I was going to ask how he did the glowing globe of light."

  "Were you now...Well I don't know is the answer. I could never do it...I tell you what, you and chubby lad on the end there," Darion said pointing to Mikel.

  "I am not chubby...It is all muscle," Mikel replied feeling quite hurt by the remark.

  "Pfft more muscle on that scraggy looking mutt of yours."

  "Do you have anything nice to say about anybody," Mikel asked.

  Darion grumbled a bit more..."Nope," was the answer he gave. After that, he told Zack and Mikel to work together. Firstly, they were to try to use the older boy's skill, of moving objects with their mind. This of course was much easier for Mikel as he already knew the magic involved. Zack however did not.

  "I cannot move anything with my mind," Zack finally admitted not being able to return the small objects being sent across the table by Mikel.

  Darion scoffed at the remark, "Neither can I sissy boy. Only I use other ways to move stuff...see,"
he sent the small wooden block they were using scuttling across the floor with a wave of his hand.

  "You know you are talking to the nephew of the king," Mikel replied trying to get Darion to let up on the snide remarks.

  "Oh I do apologise your majesty," Darion shouted, mocking a bow. "I don't care if I am talking to the king...you stinking wolf boy."

  Darion huffed. He told Zack to stop whining and think of a way he might move the block. Mikel did so with his mind. He himself used the power of the air to move it. Others would use the energy found in the very fabric of the atmosphere. "If you can do a light globe, then you can use the same power to do dozens of other things. You three just need to open your minds, you think you can only do little tricks...If you think on it, you can all do much more..." Darion spoke clearly for the first time that morning.

  Whilst all the name-calling had been going on, Maxim had sat quietly moving the small flame from one hand to the other. It was surprising how doing the same thing over and over made it much easier. Darion stood and watched him, then told him to let the flame dissipate, then recreate it again. Maxim actually felt quite confident in what he was doing, although no praise ever came from Darion. Zack however was keeping a watchful eye on him, and gave an approving smile every once in a while.

  Danton finally called time on their lesson. Whilst Maxim appeared to have actually learned a little, it was quite clear neither Mikel nor Zack had; other than the fact that they were now completely aware of just how rude and brash Darion could be. The three left the old man and headed off down the corridor to the dining hall, "I am not sure I can put up with him every day," Zack admitted as they walked.

  "Nor me...I mean what did I ever do to deserve being clipped around the head," Mikel added to the argument.

  After joining a short queue and each collecting a bowl of soup and some bread, the three found an empty table. It had been the first time they had joined all the others for lunchtime. There was certainly plenty of chatter echoing around the large room as several pairs of eyes seemed to be staring their direction, more so when Shadow sat himself down beside Mikel. Ramon had arranged with the kitchen to let the wolf eat with them, and as a result, one of the kitchen staff rather timidly walked over towards them. In her hand was a large slab of red meat for Shadow.

  It was clear the woman did not want to get to close to the creature "I'll just drop it here," she said nervously. Mikel nodded, "He won't hurt you...Go on Shadow...say thank you to the kind lady."

  The woman stood absolutely petrified, as the wolf stood and slowly walked her direction. The creature looked down on the floor at the piece of meat and then up at the worried face of the woman. The wolf than sat and offered a paw, like a playful pup might do. The kitchen maid smiled, and after a few hesitant moves forward, she shook the paw. Shadow then picked the meat up in his jaws and returned to sit beside his master. "You old charmer," Mikel said reaching down and roughing his pet behind the ears.

  The soup was filled with thickly cut vegetables, and some small pieces of meat. Mikel joked that Shadow ate better than they did, although it did not stop him finishing his before the other two had barely got half way. Zack looked at him, "Hungry Mikel," he chuckled.

  "I'm a growing boy," Mikel said innocently. Maxim savoured his lunch, he knew only too well how you should appreciate every meal.

  Chapter 17.

  Oran, King of Kothia sat with his two advisors. In another couple of hours, he would have to stand and address his government, amidst rumours that were now rife of his affiliation with magicians. Now he had to decide to either admit to the matter in question or lie, and deny all knowledge of any such thing.

  The two men sat with him in his private study, were as far as he knew, both trustworthy. Although, he could not even afford to let them know of his decision, or indeed the plans he had. However, he sought their opinions, more to know the situation in government, than to actually take any advice from them.

  He sat and listened, as the man to his left explained the latest news. Several of his government officials were now calling for the king to relinquish all powers and hand total control of the country to them. If the king was indeed, as accused, breaking his own laws, then he was not a man to be trusted. Oran nodded, thanking the man for his honesty, before asking the second man.

  Apparently, there were still a number of officials who gave their support to the king, but that number was diminishing daily. There were already groups of officials who were allegedly planning meetings, in a bid to remove the king. This, Oran thought was an interesting development. "Do you know the officials responsible?" he asked the man. "Yes Sire, I will write their names down for you. They are not hiding the fact they are intending to have you stand down, by force if necessary," the man replied.

  Oran tapped his finger on his chin, this indeed was food for thought. He thanked the two men, and asked them to leave. He tried to think how he might just be able to make this work to his own advantage. Even talk of suggesting the removal of the king, was paramount to treason, as he afforded himself a small smile of satisfaction, as he decided on his next course of action.

  With a renewed sense of purpose, he firstly headed to see his officer in charge. A loyal a man as he knew, and one of only a handful he trusted explicitly. Despite the king technically being in command of all the armed forces, Oran was certain there would be those amongst them that were under the influence of the government. Just as he knew, that there were elements of his army totally dedicated to him. One such force he could rely upon was his company of Elite Royal guardsman. Not only were these men true to him, but also the cream of the crop as far as soldiers went.

  He found the man he sought, strolling across the yard of the royal residence, and after walking alongside him, he gestured they find somewhere quiet to talk. His commander nodded understanding the need for urgency. Denny Porter had been in Oran's service for as long as he could remember. A tall, well-built man in his forties, with short dark hair, clean-shaven and with a well-defined face, he was the man Oran needed to rely on.

  Once inside his office, the commander poured two glasses of brandy, and after handing one to the king, they both sat at his desk. Oran took a sip, before explaining his dilemma. It was clear his commander was outraged at the thought there were people in positions of power that sought to overthrow his king. "I will have them arrested and charged," the man stood to leave and do so immediately, but Oran calmed him down and told him they needed to be a little more careful.

  He explained to his commander of just how tenuous his rule was. With every passing week, the government officials seemed to pushing him that little further, he feared it would only be a matter of time before they deemed him surplus to requirements, and tried removing him completely. However, he told his friend, if they thought for one minute, he planned to sit idly by and let them do it, then they were in for a shock.

  Together the two men planned ahead. Oran needed to know just how much of his army was actually loyal to him, and which part to the government; as commander, it would be Denny Porter's job to discreetly find out. Moreover, Oran now wanted his family to have extra protection from the royal guards. If there was a concern for safety, Oran thought they were probably more at risk than he was.

  Oran left the final part until the end. After suggesting the two had another brandy, he sat his commander back down. He explained the entire story. Firstly, of the man that he had seen the nation's future. As a result, Oran had been left to decide its fate. "I have been hiding magicians away," he said waiting for Denny to comprehend what he was being told. "So the rumours are true," the man said. Oran nodded, "In part yes. When the time comes, I need Kothia to be able to fight back."

  Oran told his commander everything. He wanted no secrets left. If this man was to fight at his side when the time came, he needed to do so knowing the truth. Denny actually thanked the king for trusting him with such information. He swore he would never betray him, and do everything in his own power, to make sure Oran re
mained the rightful ruler of Kothia.

  Once that was sorted, they then needed to discuss the raids on the nation's borders. Naturally, Denny assumed them to be the work of bandits, although their ferocity and frequency had made him consider they were something more. Oran told him that his sources had revealed they were indeed something else. They were soldiers from Bosaria, intent on disrupting the Kothian morale and army. "I need you Denny, to make sure those troops who may be loyal to the government, are sent to the border. Spread them out as far as they will go." His commander smiled, clearly understanding the kings thinking.

  For now, he only wanted the government officials who were openly rebelling watched. That was all but one man, as it was clear that one official in particular was pushing things farther than any other. Oran could not think of any reason why the man seemed intent and stirring up trouble, but he was. "I need you to find something on this man, anything so that he can be arrested and removed from the equation." Denny nodded, "I'll have him watched like a hawk, the traitorous git."

  With his meetings not yet over, it was then time for Oran to face his accusers. With the hope that the government officials might themselves feel under pressure, he braced himself for what he knew would be a difficult next hour.

  The government building looked more opulent than his own residence. With elaborate ornate stonework on the facade, and wide stone steps leading up to finely decorated doors. Two guards stood either side of the doorway, and as he approached with his own bodyguard aside of him, it was clear who they were loyal too. Quite clearly, these men were in the pocket of the government. Neither guard so much as acknowledged his presence as he walked inside. That in itself, once would have caused an outrage, as Oran thought, it just proved how far the monarchy had fallen.