Fifty-six
Marcus and his friends followed Rylan down the familiar road that led from the plateau to the flat plains below. Rylan was a quiet sort, who paced himself well ahead of the others and never looked back to see if they were keeping up. He seemed to be, if not unaware, then uninterested in his companions.
By the time they reached level ground, the sun had risen well above the distant mountains. Bryn held onto Lael’s hand much of the time, when he wasn’t stopping to pluck pebbles from his shoe or examine some twisted piece of dried vegetation growing on the side of the road. He presented each little treasure to Lael, whose constant flow of gentle praise and encouragement soon wore on Marcus’s nerves. Having a guide who never spoke at all was equally annoying.
About midday they reached the Celestine mine. More soldiers stood guard now than when they had passed before. Each one carried a short sword and shield and wore armor on his chest and head. By the looks on their faces, they were not in the mood to be approached by five young travelers.
“Maybe we should go back and take a different route,” suggested Lael. “Rylan, what do you think?”
Rylan said nothing but simply led his party in a wide circle around the mine, avoiding possible confrontation. It was clear he expected the others to follow without question, which they did.
They reached Lake Olsnar by nightfall. When Rylan stopped and began unrolling his blanket, everyone took it as a signal they would be camping here for the night.
“I’m going to the shore to fill my water skin,” Marcus said, once he had prepared his own bed.
“Wait for me,” Clovis replied.
“We’ll come, too,” added Lael and Bryn.
As they stood to leave, Rylan, who was arranging a stack of kindling for the fire, held up his empty skin.
“Would you mind?” he asked without looking up.
Marcus hesitated. They had traveled all day without a single word out of Brommel’s son, and now Rylan expected to be served? Marcus had half a mind to take that skin and throw it right back at him, but if he offended him, Rylan just might abandon them and return to Dokur. Then how would Marcus find Voltana?
Marcus took Rylan’s water skin and headed for the lakeshore, grumbling as he went. He hadn’t gotten very far when a loud, high-pitched screech startled him. Suddenly a black ball appeared, rocketing through the air. The mass shot past Marcus, narrowly missing his head, and crash-landed behind a nearby tree. Marcus hurried over to inspect the strange object only to find Xerxes lying on his back, feet stuck up in the air, gasping for breath.
“Oh, praise the gods, it’s you!” said Xerxes, moaning in pain. “Oh! My wing! My back!”
“Xerxes! Are you all right?”
“Do I look all right to you?”
“What happened?”
“Well, after I left you this morning, I flew around a bit—exploring, you know—and testing out my wings. It was a lovely experience! The first time I have ever seen anything from higher up than Zyll’s elbow! Ah, what splendor! What magnificent beauty!”
“Xerxes? What happened?” Marcus asked more forcefully.
“After a while, I got hungry. I’ve never been hungry before. I was only wood, as you well know. And I suddenly felt weak and empty. So I thought it would be a good idea to search for food. I foraged a bit and found some berries and a scrap of—”
“Xerxes!” shouted Marcus. “What happened?”
“Excuse me for not noticing you were in such a hurry to fill that water skin!” snapped Xerxes. “If you must know, I was attacked by a falcon! Yes, a vicious, evil falcon determined to have me for dinner—and not as a guest, mind you! I flew here as fast as I could in search of shelter.”
Xerxes rolled onto his feet and shook out his feathers. Then he flew up to perch unsteadily on a tree branch.
“You’re welcome to stay with me as long as you need,” said Marcus.
“Stay with you? Hmmm. I appreciate the offer, but I’m a free agent now. I come and go as I like. But seeing as your company is better than no company at all, I will stay here tonight.”
With that, Xerxes nestled his beak beneath his wing and was soon whistling deeply in slumber.
Fifty-seven
By the time Marcus reached the lake, Clovis and Lael were already dipping their skins into the water. Bryn was in the lake up to his waist, splashing happily about.
“Can you believe that guide of ours?” said Marcus.
“You mean Rylan?” replied Lael.
“Does he even know we’re following him? He just keeps marching on and on without even acknowledging our presence.”
“I think he’s arrogant,” said Clovis.
“He’s just doing his job,” said Lael. “He wouldn’t be a good guide if he spent all his time chatting, would he?”
Marcus couldn’t believe his ears. Lael was always so quick to criticize Marcus when he made even the smallest error. In fact, she loved criticizing Marcus, so why not Rylan, who was much more deserving of it than he? Then the answer struck him, making him angrier still.
“Why are you so fond of him all of a sudden, Lael?”
“I’m not fond of him,” she answered. “I hardly know him.”
“Exactly! And yet you’re defending him as if he were—”
“Were what?” challenged Lael.
Bryn waddled through the shallow water until he stood beside them on the shore. He shook the water from his body like a wet dog. Cold water sprayed them all.
“Bryn!” shouted Marcus.
“I have to dry myself.”
“Well, go do it over there! You’ve gotten us all wet!”
Bryn apologized and wandered off through the trees, dejected.
“You hurt his feelings,” scolded Lael.
Clovis stood up and put the stopper in his water skin. “I’ll go after him,” he said, following Bryn. “Besides, I think there’s only room for two in this argument.”
Once Clovis had gone, Lael turned on Marcus. “Why do you have to be so hard on Bryn all the time?”
“Hard on him?” answered Marcus. “Lael, you don’t know what you’re saying, do you?”
“I do, too. You’re too critical, Marcus. You never have anything nice to say to that boy.”
“Bryn is not a boy! He’s a groc, a monster parading around in human form. Or have you forgotten those creatures that wanted to eat you back in the canyon?”
“He’s not like them,” said Lael.
“Of course he’s like them! He’s one of them! But you’ve been treating him as though you were his mother and he was your child.”
Marcus was angry now, but he wasn’t so sure it was because of Bryn. No matter how hard he tried to control himself, Lael always found some way to irritate him.
“He wants to be human,” said Lael. “He would be a good one if you’d let him.” Lael’s voice remained calm, and there was a strange pleading look in her eye that, for some reason, only fueled Marcus’s temper.
“Bryn will never be human!” he said.
At that moment, Marcus glanced up and saw Bryn and Clovis standing together at the edge of the thicket. Marcus knew immediately he had gone too far this time.
“Bryn, I—”
“It’s all right, Marcus,” said Bryn, choking back a tear. “Really . . .”
Bryn turned and ran back into the trees. Clovis’s mouth hung open in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” stammered Marcus. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Of course you didn’t,” said Lael, getting to her feet and brushing the dust off her trousers. The edge in her voice could have cut Marcus right in half.
Fifty-eight
Jayson stood on the balcony outside Kelvin’s private chambers and gazed out over the bay. The sun was setting to the west, casting a deep golden hue across the horizon. The bare masts of Dokur’s fleet below in the harbor stood in stark contrast, each one a bold, black gash against the orange-and-violet sky. It would not be long now before they
would hoist their sails and set out for the mainland, destruction their only aim.
Jayson spotted the first stars of the night. Marcus had left only that morning, yet already it seemed a lifetime. Too many years had passed with Jayson not even knowing of his son’s existence, and he regretted each day they had been separated. Following the Hestorian invasion, he had stayed in Quendel with Marcus and Zyll until the leaves began to turn. Then he left to join his people in Taktani. While he would have preferred to stay with his father and son, the Agorans needed him. But once he led them back to their homelands, Jayson hoped he would never be separated from his family again.
Tonight, however, he could only ask the gods to watch over Marcus on his journey and bring him safely home again. He could also spend his time with his other son, Kelvin.
“This was my grandfather’s room,” said Kelvin, entering through the door. “Fredric breathed his last breath here.”
“A bit morbid, don’t you think?” answered Jayson.
“What? That he died here, or that I’ve made his room my own?”
Kelvin motioned for the guard who had accompanied him to exit. The guard bowed stiffly and then stepped through the door. Though Kelvin closed the door behind him, Jayson was certain the guard would remain posted outside. He could smell the man’s scent even through the solid oak door, his Agoran senses far more attuned than those of humans.
“Your guard is nervous,” Jayson said.
“I don’t see why,” replied Kelvin, joining Jayson on the balcony. “The Agoran spy is in chains. There’s no more reason to fear.”
“Eliha is no spy. He acted on his own. You assume he killed Fredric, and there are those who would prefer you to believe it.”
“He killed two of my men. It stands to reason he killed Fredric and also plotted against me. That is why he will be executed.”
“And what about the girl? Will you execute her as well?”
Kelvin leaned forward, pressing both palms against the stone rail of the balcony. A cold wind blew from the north, carrying with it the scent of the sea. Jayson sensed the rising tension within his son. It was clear to him that the responsibilities of ruling Dokur were a heavy burden to bear, perhaps too heavy for an inexperienced farm boy like Kelvin. But what was also clear was that Kelvin was determined to fulfill Fredric’s wishes to the best of his ability. Kelvin would never cower before an enemy, and he would never accept defeat. For that, Jayson was proud to call him his son.
“You knew her once,” said Kelvin after a thoughtful pause.
“Kaië was a small child when I first met her,” answered Jayson. “Her mother was Ivanore’s lady-in-waiting, but she died, and Kaië was orphaned.”
“Marcus told me you and Ivanore took her in.”
“We did. She was like a daughter to us. When you were born, she was as doting as a sister could be. She used to cradle you in her arms like a little doll and sing to you.”
“Do you think she remembers?”
Jayson turned from the rail and stepped into the room. The woven floor mat cushioned his steps, and he imagined he could sleep quite soundly on it, much like sleeping on a soft pile of leaves in the forest—something he had done countless times. Kelvin followed him into the room and shut the panel to the balcony, turning the lock.
“You know as well as I do that Kaië is innocent,” said Jayson. “It is wrong to keep her imprisoned.”
“I would love nothing more than to free her, but I’ve given Chancellor Prost power over this case. I cannot overstep—”
“By the gods, you cannot let that man destroy her!”
“Then what do you suggest I do?” Kelvin’s tone was angry, desperate.
Jayson drew close to Kelvin and lowered his voice. The guard still stood outside the door, and Jayson trusted no one. “Listen to me,” he said. “Eliha did not murder Fredric. I believe the real killer will be found in your closest circle.”
Kelvin stepped back horrified. “Careful,” he said. “If you speak of Prost, he is my most trusted counselor—my grandfather’s, as well.”
“All the more reason to suspect him.”
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s been like a father to me.”
Jayson scoffed. “A father—”
“The father I never had before! Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got to get some sleep. You may go.”
Jayson nodded stiffly and turned for the door, which opened before he even reached it. The guard had been listening, but how much had he heard?
“I had hoped you and I could spend more time together,” Jayson said, pausing at the door. “Zyll was my father, your grandfather. He was killed yesterday, and yet you’ve said nothing about him. Not a word.”
“I hardly knew him.”
“You hardly knew Fredric, either. Zyll left much greater shoes to fill than those of a king. It wasn’t Eliha or Kaië who killed him. Your throne and your life will not be safe until the true murderer is found.”
Jayson glared at the guard as he passed by. Then he paused and sniffed at him. “You need a bath,” he said and then strode down the hall and out of the Fortress, glad to leave it all behind him.
Fifty-nine
The night was clear and very, very cold. Marcus and the others huddled beneath their blankets, trying unsuccessfully to stay warm. Marcus imagined they would all be much better off sleeping beside each other to share body heat, but after what happened with Bryn earlier that evening, he dared not suggest it. Lael and Bryn had completely ignored him all through dinner. By the time they were ready to sleep, Marcus felt like an outcast.
As the hours wore on and the temperature continued to drop, Marcus finally got up enough courage to scoot up next to Clovis.
“I’m freezing,” he whispered, hoping Clovis would suggest what he couldn’t. Clovis did not respond but lay perfectly still.
“Clovis, I know you’re still awake, so you might as well answer me.”
“How did you know I wasn’t asleep?”
“You’re not snoring yet.”
“I don’t snore.”
“Yes, you do. Aren’t you cold?”
“My fingers and toes are completely numb.”
“Mine, too. Well?”
“Well what?”
“Well, don’t you think we should do something to get warmer?”
“You could use magic and warm the air around us.”
“You know I can’t use magic.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
The question pricked Marcus as sure as a briar or a blade. “If I did use magic, it could trigger another attack,” he said. “It would take days to recover.”
“Right,” said Clovis, sounding only partially convinced. “Well, I guess we could share blankets.”
“Great idea!”
Marcus shuffled as close to Clovis as he could. They lay back to back beneath both their blankets. Having turned to his other side, Marcus could see Lael and Bryn huddling together nearby.
“I know you’re both still angry at me,” he said aloud to them, “but if you want to get warm, you’re welcome to join us.”
Bryn’s response was to turn up his nose and curl into an even tighter ball beside Lael. Lael pretended she hadn’t heard Marcus at all.
Sixty
When morning finally arrived, Marcus was glad for the sun’s first warming rays eroding the thin layer of frost that had dusted them during the night. Marcus had eventually fallen asleep—exactly when, he wasn’t quite sure—and waking now, he was surprised at how toasty he felt. Then he realized why. Clovis lay snoring contentedly to one side of him, and on his other side lay Lael and Bryn pressed up tightly against him. He grinned to himself as he lay quietly for a while longer, allowing everyone additional time to enjoy their sleep. Finally, once the sun was fully visible above the trees, Bryn stirred and stretched. Mumbling something about breakfast, he rolled over to face Marcus.
Bryn’s face was within inches of Marcus’s
when he opened his eyes with a yawn. Suddenly he leapt to his feet, taking the thick pile of blankets with him.
“Bryn,” Lael moaned, reaching blindly for a blanket that was no longer there. “Bryn, I’m cold!”
Bryn dropped the crumpled blankets on top of Lael, leaving Marcus and Clovis completely uncovered. Clovis snored on.
“Lael’s not the only one who’s cold,” said Marcus, but the scowl on Bryn’s face told Marcus that the oversight had been on purpose. Marcus got up and began gathering wood for a fire. Rylan approached and dropped a heavy bundle of dry twigs at Marcus’s feet.
“That should be enough to get started,” he said and then brandished a shiny dagger in the morning sunlight. “I’ll be back shortly with breakfast.” Then Rylan disappeared again through the trees.
Marcus grumbled under his breath as he arranged the twigs into a tidy pile and struck his knife against a stone to light it. After several tries, the sparks finally ignited the thinnest of the tinder, which Marcus carefully nursed to a steady flame. Soon the fire was large enough to add some branches from a nearby dead tree. The heat from the fire warmed the immediate area. Lael came near, and Clovis stirred from sleep to join them. Even Bryn edged close enough to feel the warmth. Using a broken branch, Marcus prepared a spit to roast whatever Rylan would bring back to eat.
Behind the fire, the pile of abandoned blankets stirred. Clovis and Lael froze, as a sharp, angry voice shouted from beneath the moving heap. “Would—someone—get—this—OFF—me!”
Marcus reached over and snatched the blanket away, revealing a fumbling black crow beneath.
“So much for sleeping in!” said Xerxes, stretching out his wings.
“What is that?” asked Clovis, his mouth gaping open in surprise.
“A talking crow?” added Lael.
Bryn, who sat beside her, stared curiously at the bird, but said nothing.
“This is Xerxes,” Marcus said.
There was a moment of silence before Clovis responded. “Xerxes. You mean Zyll’s walking stick, Xerxes? I wondered where it had gone to.”
The Last Enchanter Page 15
