by Mike Shelton
“Can someone answer my question,” Breelyn said, “before Captain Argos faints?” Breelyn glared around at the group.
Captain Leeds nodded his head and looked over at her, saying, “Please, Mistress, let Argos go. He is a good captain.”
“Very well.” Breelyn waved her hand in the air, and the black tendrils receded into her black bracelets. “Speak, Captain Leeds.”
“Mistress,” Captain Leeds said and then began his report. As Leeds began to speak, Breelyn saw Captain Argos holding his hand to his throat as he sucked in air. She didn’t like threatening people, but the General had told her it was the only way these simple folk would learn to obey. And, during war, a general could not have his captains and soldiers not obeying.
“More recruits come every day,” Leeds continued. “But Solshi is a spread out kingdom: it is taking time to get the word out.”
Breelyn nodded and said, “I don’t like excuses, but I appreciate the honesty.”
There, that should help them to relax.
“And, the training?” she said as she turned to Captain Willis, a woman in her late twenties, who appeared ready to fight back. “Do they know how to fight?” Breelyn asked.
The woman stiffened in front of Breelyn but said, “The professional soldiers do well—though there hasn’t been a war in a long, long time, Mistress. With the barrier up, we didn’t have anyone to fight. We kept up good relations with the other bordering kingdoms.”
The captain pushed a stray hair out of her eyes, swallowed hard, and then continued, “The new recruits are awkward and clumsy. More of them get hurt in practice than seem to learn anything from the exercises.”
Turning back to Captain Argos, Breelyn asked, “Argos, do you agree with their assessments?”
“Yes, Mistress.” The man still held his throat with one hand but bobbed his head to her, nonetheless.
“And, what do we do about this?” Breelyn asked Argos and then let her eyes wander over the entire group.
The captains looked back and forth between each other, and Breelyn’s displeasure began to rise once again. She pushed it back down.
Why do I get upset so easily now? I’m still an elf. I was born in patience.
But she knew she had always been short on patience—even while in her homeland—and now it was scarcer still. But she had to prove her worth to the General so that he would heal Lan.
Breelyn raised her hands into the air again. Did these captains need another reminder?
Just then, the tent flap opened. A male servant, seeing Breelyn’s hands in the air, ready to strike, began to back out of the tent.
“Why do you disrupt me?” Breelyn called out.
“The General, Mistress; he is coming.” The man’s eyes bulged wider when he saw Breelyn’s reaction. Could he tell that she was afraid?
“Here?” Breelyn asked. “Why was I not informed earlier?” Breelyn found herself brushing her dark hair down with her fingers. Realizing what she was doing, she scowled and berated herself. The General held some sort of sway over her, for she felt compelled to please him and didn’t know if this feeling was natural or not.
“Very well,” Breelyn said with a wave of her hand to dismiss the servant. Turning back to her captains, she rose to dismiss them also. “We will meet again in the morning. And I better get stronger reports on the soldiers. It will be time to march soon.”
Rising to their feet, the captains had turned to leave, when Captain Willis turned back to Breelyn and said, “Mistress.” She bowed low to Breelyn. “You asked us what could be done. Well, we don’t have enough for the soldiers to eat. The General has curtailed food production and transportation. They won’t be strong without enough food.”
The captain had been bold to speak up, but she bore the truth of the matter: Their soldiers needed food to maintain their strength. The General had been shortsighted.
“I will discuss it with the General,” Breelyn said, then ushered them out of the command tent.
The General would be there soon. She knew that he could pop in suddenly almost anywhere he desired. Somehow, his dark powers allowed him to move about quicker than his legs or a horse could carry him.
Not faster than Miriel.
This brief thought, of the speed of her dragon, seized her breast, and Breelyn leaned over and placed her hand on the edge of a table.
Her dragon!
Out of all that she had recently lost, that loss still hurt Breelyn the most: The bond and comfort of feeling another so close. It angered Breelyn to think about it. That was not her life anymore.
Before she could straighten back up, the tent flap opened. Breelyn glanced up. Unnaturally yellow eyes flashed at her. The General’s shaggy, dark hair hung down to his broad shoulders, which sat higher than her eye level. Looking up at his face, she shrank back for only a moment.
“Something wrong, Breelyn?” the General asked, cutting through any pleasantries. “Not having second thoughts, are we?”
Breelyn stood up straighter and shook her head as she said, “No, General.” All thoughts of her dragon were buried deep once again. “I was just meeting with my captains…”
“Your captains?” The General took a step closer and loomed over her head. “This army is not yours, Elf.”
Breelyn berated herself for making such a mistake. Bowing low, she groveled in front of the most powerful man she had ever met.
The General put his strong fingers under Breelyn’s chin and lifted her face back up. He ran one finger up her jaw line; his thumb gently touched Breelyn’s lips and then caressed her cheek. Reaching up with his other hand, he stroked her hair down its long length and said, “You grow more beautiful every day, Elf Maiden. Black becomes you.”
Receiving praise from this man of power lifted Breelyn’s spirits. How could she ever have doubted the man’s wisdom or her position with him? He was more powerful than anyone. His dark touch sank deep inside her and buoyed her soul back up.
“Thank you, Master,” Breelyn said.
“Now, about the army.” The General brought his hands back down, and he was all business once again.
Breelyn groaned inside at the loss of his touch, but she quickly remembered what her captains had told her. “The men need more food, sir.”
The General’s face turned red, and he opened his mouth to reply in apparent anger, but Breelyn pushed forward.
“We cannot expect a strong army if they don’t eat enough. They need the strength from sufficient food. We need more. Then they will be ready.” She didn’t tell him about the deserters. That would earn her his displeasure.
The General nodded his head. “I will cut food delivery to the city, and the army can have their food.”
Breelyn nodded her head but felt a small stab of pain for those that would now suffer in order to build the army’s strength.
“We must all give up something, mustn’t we?” The General tilted his head and smiled with his teeth. “You should know that most of all.”
Breelyn kept her expression neutral but felt her face redden.
I hate him! she thought to herself.
The General brought his hand back up to her face, and it took all that she had to not pull back. “Don’t hate me, Breelyn. Hate Alaris. Hate the men that killed my father and put up the barrier. Hate the wizards of the aggressors.”
Breelyn nodded and remembered: She thought of Roland and his pompous strength. She thought of Bakari and how he had brought down the barrier that had protected them all from Alaris. She thought of Kanzar, Onius, and Mericus and the lives that had been lost as they fought for control of Alaris.
And then she smiled. This time it was genuine. She leaned her face into the General’s hand and relished his power and wisdom. How had she ever felt hate for the man?
“You are right, as always, General.” Breelyn smiled up at him. “We will crush Alaris.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Roland sat in a corner of the magic stream—well, he didn’t know if
it was truly a corner or not, but he pretended it was. The vast emptiness of the place seemed to stretch out forever. Some areas were darker or lighter than others. But that and the flicker of lights representing the wizards were the only things to look at in this dreary place.
So Roland was bored. That was the easiest way to describe his current mood. He was also concerned—very concerned. The day before, Alli’s light had all of a sudden blinked out. He had been watching it, wondering if he should intrude again, and then it had just gone out.
Hours later, Alli’s light had come back but was so dim that it was hard to know if he was actually seeing her light or just wishing he were.
Breelyn’s light had also dimmed. Roland had reached out to touch it once, but he had jumped back from the evil taint he felt there.
Roland shook his head now and worried about the beautiful elf maiden and what she had done to deserve such darkness.
The evil wizard king—at least, that is what Roland had named him—hadn’t appeared again. But Roland wouldn’t mind another bout with him just now…it would give him something to do.
Standing back up, Roland ran as fast as he could, watching the starry lights around him race past. But no other scenery changed. It was infuriating. How could he get out of this place?
Then Roland’s scattered and melancholy thoughts brought him back to Bakari’s light. It wasn’t hard to miss, for the Dragon King outshined most other lights in this place. That thought made Roland wonder what his own light might look like to others. And he wondered if he appeared as bright as Bakari.
Reaching Bakari’s light, Roland decided to see what his friend was up to. Touching the light with his hands, his mind was taken into the light, and he found himself standing on a bustling street corner. Brilliant colors surrounded him: banners hung from vendors’ awnings in bright colors, and the people around him wore clothes of the most colorful designs. The women’s dresses were cut lower on the top and higher on the bottom than was considered proper in Alaris, but it was the swirls of color that took most of his attention.
Turning to the side, Roland saw Bakari, walking next to a brilliant white horse, while another young man rode on a similar horse next to them. Roland was mesmerized by the horses’ auras—they exuded immense power.
“They’re beautiful,” Roland exclaimed.
The horse next to Bakari turned its head, as if it had heard Roland speak. And its bright blue eyes looked directly at him. Roland swallowed hard and wondered how much power they had.
“Bakari, where are we going?” the young man asked.
Yes, Bak, Roland wondered. Where are you going? I’m stuck here, in a magic void, and you are out for a leisurely stroll through some exotic marketplace.
“Do you feel anything through the bond, Liam?” Bakari said to the young man next to him.
Liam nodded his head. “She is here somewhere.”
Bakari nodded and looked around. Then Roland noticed a more distant and tired look in his friend’s expression. Looking up in the sky, Roland searched for Bakari’s dragon, Abylar, but didn’t see him. This thought set off some alarms. Roland knew that the wizard king was after the dragon riders. So Roland needed to warn Bak. But how?
Roland followed them through the marketplace, then into a poorer district of the city. Soon the cobblestone streets turned to dirt, and the buildings became more run-down. A few street urchins scattered in front of them as they continued deeper into an obviously seedier part of the city.
“I can feel her close by,” Liam said.
“Do we need help?” Bakari asked.
Liam appeared to be concentrating on something. Turning back to Bakari, he said, “I could go to Governor San Ghant, but, as the son of the king, I don’t want to cause too much commotion. This needs to be done quietly. And we both are wizards.”
Bakari nodded his understanding.
Roland still wondered where they were. The scent of the sea was strong, but that only meant that they were somewhere on a coast. The accent of the young man was not much different from theirs, only slightly more formal in its pronunciation.
Soon Liam stopped and dismounted, and Roland saw that Liam limped on one foot and struggled to move forward quickly. Then the young man motioned for Bakari to follow him around the side of a dirty, white building.
As they came around the corner, a group of hands came out and grabbed both of them. Without thinking, Roland brought his hands up to protect them, intending to form a ball of fire. But nothing happened.
“Stupid place!” Roland yelled.
Bakari tried to lift his own hands. Getting one free, he threw a punch of air at his attacker that pushed the man back, onto the ground. Liam struggled and seemed about to unleash his own magic, when a female voice cut through the uproar.
“Liam! It’s me, Breanna.”
The fighting stopped, and Liam limped forward to embrace Breanna. Then, pulling away, Liam asked, “What happened?”
“Come inside,” she said.
She directed them near a small door at the side of the building. Then, looking up and down the street, she opened it and told them to hurry inside. The horses followed the young men, with Roland just behind them.
The room looked to be an old inn. Wooden chairs sat broken on the floor with a few tables still standing nearby. It was filled with young people. One young woman was tending a small fire in the corner. Everyone in the room stopped and watched as the group entered.
Liam turned his head around. “They’re all here? All of the students?”
Breanna nodded and smiled, her brown hair framing her heart-shaped face. “The headmaster helped us to escape, and the governor gave us this place.”
“Not much of a place,” Liam grumbled. “You could have done a lot better.”
“Not if we want to stay hidden,” Breanna said. “We are protected here from a growing evil at the school.”
Bakari nodded as if he understood and said, “We talked to the headmaster—in a moment of clarity for him—and know that he is being manipulated by one who calls himself the Sentinel.”
Roland was having a hard time following what was being said, but he did understand enough to know that trouble was brewing in this land, as it also was in the others. He needed to talk to Bak. So he thought hard of how he could do it.
He called out, “Bak! Bakari!”
But there was no response.
It would be easier, Roland assumed, if Bakari was asleep. But that would occur too much later in the day.
“Hey, Dragon King!” he tried.
No response came from Bakari, but Roland did notice one of the beautiful horses looking his way. Maybe that was how he could talk to his friend.
Moving closer to one of the horses, Roland put his hand out and tried to touch it. He couldn’t feel it physically, but there was a change in the magic.
You must be a powerful wizard, said a voice into Roland’s head.
Roland jumped away in surprise. Then, putting his hand back on the horse, Roland reached out with his mind and said, Was that you who just talked to me?
Yes, it was I. Who are you?
I am Roland Tyre, High Wizard of the Citadel in Alaris.
Nice to meet you, young wizard. And you are friends with the Dragon King?
Yes, me and Bak—um, I mean, the Dragon King and I are good friends, Roland said. Talking to a horse seemed very strange.
A powerful wizard your friend is. More powerful than he even realizes. He needs to bring peace to the land once again.
Roland laughed and replied, Don’t I know it. I need his help also. Could you arrange for me to speak to him, most noble creature? He was hoping that flattery would work on the…the Cremelino—that is what Liam had called it.
It moved over closer to Bakari and nudged his arm.
“Looks like Flash has taken a liking to you,” Liam said to Bakari.
Bakari laughed. “He is persistent. What does he want?”
“Go with him,” Breanna sai
d. “He wants something from you.”
Following the Cremelino across the room, Bakari reached out and touched Flash on the nose. Instantly, Roland felt Bakari’s presence.
Bak! Roland said.
Roland? Bakari asked. How did you do this?
I am a powerful wizard, remember? Roland laughed. It felt good to talk to his friend again. It felt good to be doing anything again.
Where are you? Bakari asked and then laughed.
Roland felt himself become more solemn. That’s what I need to warn you about. There is an evil wizard: the last ancient king of Alaris. He died long ago but is trying to return to life. He has three sons, or some kind of descendants, that are helping him.
The Chameleon and the Sentinel! Bakari said.
Yes, and another one, called the General.
That’s who Breelyn is with, Bakari said. But what about you? Where are you, Roland? How are you able to do this?
Roland was quiet for a moment. He hated having to confess embarrassing things to Bakari.
Roland? Bakari said. What did you do?
Do? Roland said, repeating the question to delay answering. Well, I might be dead. I’m not sure. There, he had said it. He was dead. That must be what had happened. His spirit was caught between the living and the dead.
Stop playing games, Roland. This is serious.
I am being serious. I am a spirit floating in the stream of magic, Bakari. My body lies in the Citadel. Tam and the other wizards are keeping it alive magically, but I don’t know how long that will work or how to get back out of this place.
Bakari let out a long stream of air, and his eyes dropped to the floor. When he looked back up, his mouth was held tight and his eyes were watery. You can’t be dead, Roland. I can’t handle that right now. If you are talking to me, you can’t be dead. Bakari wiped at his eyes.
You’re the scholar, Bakari. I’ll trust you if you say I’m not dead. But I am trapped here.
