13 Day War

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Go!” snarled the fairy prince.

  Nixy did not need to hear the order a second time. He darted away so fast that Prince Oscar felt the wind of his passing. The king’s father turned and looked at the fairy prince questioningly.

  “What is wrong?” he asked.

  “Artimor is on the move,” declared Prince Midge. “Three soldiers from the palace have visited his shop in the last hour. After the third soldier had left, the demonkin closed his shop and slipped out the rear entrance.”

  “So the demonkin is on his way to assassinate the king?” asked Theos.

  “It sure sounds that way,” stated Queen Tanya. “He is a cautious one to verify the information three times. Do you think he suspects a trap?”

  “What else?” Prince Oscar asked, staring sternly at the fairy prince. “I have never seen you berate one of your people that way. What are you not telling us?”

  Prince Midge spoke so softly that no one could hear him.

  “Louder,” demanded Prince Oscar. “This is no time for secrets.”

  “My people have lost the demonkin,” scowled Prince Midge. “I cannot believe that they failed me when the Bringer’s life is in danger. I have sent Nixy to gather every fairy in the city. We will find Artimor again.”

  “No,” Alex said quickly and firmly. “Call them back.”

  “Call them back?” balked the fairy prince. “I will not. I would never allow my people to be the cause of the Bringer’s death. We will find the demonkin if it the last thing the fairy people do.”

  “Call them back,” Alex replied strongly. “They can only worsen the situation now.”

  “You are not the Bringer, Alexander Tork,” the fairy prince said defiantly. “I do not need to obey you.”

  Alex turned to King Arik. “Give Midge the order,” he pleaded. “The fairies will never find the demonkin, but they will alert him to the fact that we are looking for him.”

  “Alex is right,” interjected Queen Tanya. “Think about all of the other times that the fairy people have lost track of someone. In each case it was a demonkin. They must have some mechanism for hiding themselves that the fairies cannot penetrate. Call them back.”

  King Arik nodded and looked at the fairy prince. “Do it, Prince Midge. Losing Artimor was not the fault of your people. Bring your fairies home.”

  Prince Midge nodded and darted through the balcony doors. As soon as he was gone, the king turned to the queen.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

  “The fairies have only lost three people that I know of,” answered the queen. “They lost an old man coming through the Door in Mya and they lost a woman in Danver Shores. Artimor is the third person they have lost.”

  “Wycaramor and Cavanor.” Alex nodded. “It is no coincidence.”

  “Does this mean that Artimor knows that we have set a trap for him?” asked the king. “I would think that is the case if he intentionally shielded himself against the fairy that was watching him.”

  “Not necessarily,” offered Balamor. “They may merely have some kind of cloaking magic that they employ when they need secrecy the most. Unless we have some proof that the demonkin actually detected the fairy, we cannot be sure of what he knows.”

  “Great,” General Gregor remarked bitterly. “So we just send the king and queen into a trap without knowing how much Artimor knows or where he is? Am I the only one who does not care much for this plan any more?”

  “The trap cannot be rescheduled,” replied Prince Oscar. “We have gone to a lot of trouble to set it up. Artimor would not fall for it a second time. We either do it now, or we abandon the idea.”

  “Then abandon it,” shrugged General Gregor. “The demonkin is at his shop every day. It is not as if he is hard to find. We will kill him there.”

  “There are two problems with that,” replied Alex. “There is no guarantee that Artimor will ever return to his shop now. The only place we can be sure of finding him now is at the Everich estate. The other problem is his power. There is no way we can gauge his power without testing him, and once we test him, we best be prepared to end his life on the spot. The Everich estate was chosen because of its location. It is one of the largest pieces of private land in the city.”

  “Alex is right,” agreed Jenneva. “We have talked about this before. Even if we managed to save King Arik from the demonkin’s attack elsewhere in the city, hundreds of people might die.”

  “And we cannot evacuate a large portion of the city without tipping our hand,” added King Arik. “No, the Everich estate is the best place in the city for a battle, and it has to happen tonight. What alterations do we need to make to our plans to account for Artimor’s disappearance?”

  “Do you mean other than the fact that we will not be able to see the demonkin?” quipped Theos. “I think our plan may be riskier than anything we had imagined. How will we even know where he is?”

  “He will be revealed when he strikes,” retorted Jenneva.

  “Great,” Prince Oscar replied sarcastically. “So all we have to do is let him assassinate the king, and we will have found him.”

  * * * *

  The Claw of Alutar stood under a tree across the street from the estate of the late Duke Everich, his form wrapped in a cloak of invisibility. The street was in an area of large estates, and it had little traffic on it. An occasional carriage would amble by heading for a private driveway, but mostly the street remained unused as its only purpose was to serve the estates of the city’s most wealthy citizens. Artimor stood patiently, unmoving and unseen.

  As the sun began to set over Tagaret, a rickety old two-wheeled wagon rolled along the street. Artimor watched it closely. The ancient black wagon was narrow, its seat only wide enough for two, and behind the seat was a simple flat bed with low sideboards. An open coffin rested on the flatbed, its lid placed alongside the box. The driver’s seat held a single person, an old hunched man dressed completely in black with a towering hat atop his head. The horse that pulled the wagon was almost as ancient as the wagon itself. Its footsteps were tired and slow as if it had pulled the wagon for so long that it no longer cared if it reached its destination or not. The wagon passed by the entrance to the Everich estate. Artimor dismissed the mortician and his wagon, and he turned his eyes towards the far end of the street, hoping that his information would prove correct. He had heard that a sick King Arik was being taken to a private estate so that the city would not learn of his illness.

  The sound of a creaking gate drew Artimor’s attention once more to the mortician’s wagon. He turned and saw the hunched over old man swinging open the gate of a nearby estate. The mortician hobbled back onto his seat, and the wagon rolled through the open gate and onto the private drive beyond it.

  Just as the last rays of sunlight were fleeing from Tagaret, Artimor saw something promising. At the far end of the street, a plain carriage appeared. The carriage carried no markings of wealth or privilege, but two mounted soldiers preceded it. Another two mounted soldiers followed behind, and two soldiers sat upon the driver’s seat. While it was not unheard of for soldiers to escort a wealthy citizen or councilor, it was an auspicious sign for the demonkin’s intent. As it drew nearer, he saw two red-headed men on the rear step of the carriage, probably the red-headed mages that he had heard about. Another good sign, but not proof that the king was inside the carriage. The Claw of Alutar waited.

  The two lead riders suddenly distanced themselves from the carriage, halting at the gates to the Everich estate. One of the riders dismounted and swung the gates open. It was another good sign, but Artimor was not about to be trapped by a false report. He had to make sure that the king was in the carriage. As the carriage turned into the private drive, the demonkin tried to peer into the windows, but they were blacked out, leaving no opportunity to see the king. He glanced at the mages on the rear step of the carriage and tried to anticipate the reach of their shields, but he knew that was a fruitless exercise. They would undoubtedl
y concentrate on the carriage itself as had Fredrik before them. Artimor was not about to make the same foolish mistake that Cavanor had made. He was not content just to kill the mages protecting the king. Still, their concentration on the carriage itself could prove to have been a mistake. Artimor smiled inwardly, realizing that the mounted soldiers were left unprotected.

  As the carriage passed through the gates, Artimor magically reached out and touched the mind of one of the trailing soldiers. It took a moment to seize the information he needed, but the soldier’s mind verified the contents of the carriage. Both King Arik and Queen Tanya were inside. The last Claw of Alutar smiled broadly. He thought for a brief moment of attacking the carriage immediately, but he restrained himself. He had no doubt that both of the red-headed mages were using their full powers to protect the king, and the queen was probably doing the same inside the carriage. If the three mages were powerful enough, they might succeed in blunting the force of Artimor’s attack, and that was unacceptable. There was no need to rush. Once the king was safely inside the mansion, the mages would relax their shields, and that is when they all would die.

  The rear riders halted at the gates and closed them. They then hurried after the carriage to be present when the king and queen exited the carriage and entered the mansion. Artimor watched closely. He saw the carriage stop at the front of the mansion. The two red-headed mages got down from the rear step, but their actions clearly showed that they were still protecting the king. King Arik and Queen Tanya stepped out of the carriage, and the king glanced around before they walked up the steps and through the front door of the mansion. The mages hurried after them. The carriage was quickly moved away from the front of the mansion as were the horses of the riders. The six soldiers entered the mansion, leaving no sign that the building was even occupied. It was the perfect hiding place for the sick king. For Artimor, it was also the perfect tomb for the king. The demonkin moved away from the tree to position himself for the strike.

  Just as Artimor headed for the street, a nearby noise distracted him. He turned and frowned as the mortician drove his wagon through the creaky gates and onto the street. Seated next to the mortician was an obvious widow. The woman was dressed entirely in black, and a dark veil covered her face. Although he was invisible, Artimor reflexively stepped back to let the wagon pass. As the mortician’s wagon passed in front of the gates of the Everich estate, one of the wheels broke free causing the wagon to tilt to one side and screech to a halt, the coffin banging loudly against the low sideboards. The mortician and the widow nearly tumbled off the seat, but the old man managed to save them from the fall, his feet landing squarely on the street with the widow pressed tightly to his back.

  The old man turned slowly, taking hold of the widow and gently lowering her to the ground. Without a word, the mortician walked away from the wagon towards the wayward wheel. He bent over, seemingly with great effort, and picked up one edge of the wheel. He rolled the wheel back to the wagon and leaned it against the side before stooping to inspect the axle.

  Artimor cursed his bad luck. He was tempted to blow the fools away, but he controlled himself. Any attack on the mortician would ruin his chances of killing King Arik. Seeing that the mortician’s wagon was not going anywhere for some time, the demonkin walked into the street and around the wagon. He walked right up to the gates of the Everich estate and peered at the mansion. As the sky grew dark with the coming night, the demonkin raised his arms and clasped his hands together. Extending his fists through the metal gates, he let loose a spell of great power. The air shimmered along the drive as the powerful projectile raced towards the mansion. A second later, the Everich mansion exploded in a massive flurry of stone and wood. In the blink of an eye, the Everich mansion ceased to exist. Debris shot upward and outward, leaving not a single wall standing. Artimor grinned as he watched the debris begin to fall back to the ground. So much for King Arik and Queen Tanya, he thought to himself.

  * * * *

  The mortician mumbled unintelligibly as he examined the axle and the undercarriage of the wagon. The widow standing nearby him gently touched his shoulder and nodded towards the Everich estate. The mortician turned to see the air shimmering along the private drive. While the explosion was shaking the whole neighborhood, the mortician reached under the wagon and pulled a long two-handed sword from its concealed position. He whirled towards the gates of the Everich estate, his tall hat falling from his head to reveal a long blond braid that had been curled up inside the hat. With the mortician disguise no longer needed, Alexander Tork raced across the street.

  “Right at the gates,” the widow said urgently. “He will reveal himself by the time you get there.”

  Artimor heard the noises behind him. He whirled around to see Alex racing towards him, a long sword extended before him. The demonkin sneered as he cast a spell at the Knight of Alcea, but the magical projectile dissipated upon impact with a shield protecting Alex. Artimor glanced at the widow with disgust. He knew that it must be Jenneva opposing him. He should have been concerned by their absence from the king’s party, but he was too enthralled with the chance to kill King Arik. Just as well, he thought. It was time for the other two heroes of the Mage to meet their deaths. He brought up both hands, pointing one towards Jenneva and one towards Alex. Twin streams of electrifying force stretched out towards his victims.

  “Protect yourself!” Alex shouted as he dove for the ground, turning his sword sideways and pulling it close to his body.

  Jenneva dropped the shield around Alex and quickly reinforced her own. Her actions came not a moment too soon. The force of Artimor’s spell hammered her shields with a power she had never felt before. Closing her eyes tightly, Jenneva forced all of her power into her shields. She knew that if she did not, she would die.

  Alex rolled towards the demonkin and jumped out of his roll near where the twin streams of electrifying power were emanating from. He swiftly slashed out with his magical sword, feeling the satisfying strike of the sword against something tangible. The twin streams instantly vanished, and the form of Artimor appeared. Alex did not take time to examine the demonkin’s wound. He brought his sword back in another swing, directing the blade towards Artimor’s neck. The blessed sword sliced through the demonkin’s neck, sending Artimor’s head falling to the ground, and his body sliding down the gates of the Everich estate.

  * * * *

  The empty wagon halted at the gates to the Royal Palace in Farmin. One of the guards moved towards the wagon, but the captain of the mounted troops escorting the wagon intercepted him before he reached the driver.

  “We have come for supplies,” stated the captain. “Open the gates.”

  “Supplies?” scoffed the guard as he noted the patch on the captain’s uniform. “I think not. The 15th Corps has been deployed to Alcea. Deserters are certainly not allowed entry into the Royal Palace.”

  One of the other guards blew a whistle upon hearing his comrade’s words. Two squads of soldiers raced towards the gates, but the captain and his men did not flinch. The captain dismounted and waited. The gates of the palace opened slightly and soldiers flowed out to surround the wagon and the squad escorting it. A gruff sergeant approached the captain standing before the guards.

  “What is going on here?” he asked.

  “Your guard needs better training,” spat the captain. “He should be aware that the 15th Corps has a special company that did not deploy to Alcea. I am Captain Ergard, and I have come for supplies.”

  “Ergard, eh?” the sergeant replied. “I’ve heard of you. You are the boys holding Prince Harold captive.”

  “We are safeguarding the prince,” corrected the captain.

  “Whatever,” scowled the sergeant. “Why are you coming here for supplies? There is a depot for that.”

  “The depot does not store the delicacies that Prince Harold demands,” retorted Captain Ergard as he waved a paper in front of the sergeant’s face. “I have authorization from the Crown Prince. Are
you about to refuse his orders?”

  The sergeant took the paper and looked at it. With a shake of his head, he handed the paper back to the captain and waved his men back inside the gates.

  “Let them through,” the sergeant instructed the guards.

  Captain Ergard mounted his horse as the guards swung the gates wide open. As the reserve squads returned to their patrols, Captain Ergard led his men through the gates and around to the side of the palace where the kitchen entrance was located. The captain proceeded down the steps to the underground entrance to the kitchens while his men dismounted and secured their horses. He banged loudly on the door, and it opened quickly. A soldier asked his business, and the captain once again showed the authorization from General Montero. The soldier nodded and handed the paper back to the captain. The captain stepped into the kitchens and looked around. When the soldier moved to close the door, the captain reached out and restrained him.