Battle for Elt: The Taking of the Wizard Bearer

by A. C. Hutchinson

  “What do you mean?”

  Eaglen did not answer. Instead, the wizard's face changed to something more akin to a demon. The ball of white light, now at least three feet across, began to move towards Fabian.

  “Can you help?” Marcus said to Gladden.

  The young wizard shook his head. “I’m not that powerful.” He looked at Marcus, his eyes full of alarm. “I can’t help him.”

  “Come on,” Stetland said. “Let's see what we can do.”

  The three of them surrounded the wizard, while keeping their distance. Somewhere in the darkness, the troll howled like a wolf. He's scared, Marcus thought. As am I.

  “This is your last warning, Eaglen,” Fabian shouted.

  Eaglen remained silent. He looks full of fury, Marcus thought. Full of anger, hate, and fury.

  As Marcus edged closer to Eaglen, sword in hand, unsure of what he was going to do, there was a bright flash and a crack louder than any thunder he had ever heard. The young guard stumbled backwards, surprised and bewildered. Where Eaglen had once stood, there was nothing. The wizard had gone. Vanished. A few feet away, Fabian lay in the snow, his body motionless.

  CHAPTER 26

  When Christian saw the wizard fall, he rushed from Hugo's side to the robed figure lying in the snow. Quiggly was at his heels, cooing shrilly.

  “Is he all right?” Christian said to the three shapes bent over the old wizard.

  “His heartbeat is weak,” Stetland said as he laid his head on Fabian's chest.

  “What happened?” Marcus said. “I don't understand. Where's Eaglen?”

  “He used his magic, didn't he, Gladden?” Christian said. “The magic you told me about, where he can send an object far away.”

  Gladden nodded wearily. “It's similar to Dispersion, only instead of himself, he sent Eaglen far away. Fabian is too old to perform such spells.”

  “Is he all right?” the wizard bearer shouted from the sleigh.

  “I don't know, Cassandra.” Gladden went to his sister and embraced her. “I'm so glad you're safe, though.”

  When the battle turned, Christian had sneaked along the rocks, headed east. His plan was to descend back onto the Great Road and then cut back west and sneak up behind Eaglen. He hadn't known what he would do to the wizard, not really. He might have thrown a rock at him or he might have told Quiggly to claw the wizard's eyes out. None of that had mattered, however, because once he’d climbed down the rock face and descended into the pool of darkness below, he met two tree folk. Christian's mother had told him about tree folk, and how gentle and kind they were. Christian immediately pleaded with them for help. The small man, who introduced himself as Hugo Peas, appeared to know all three wizards and was well aware of the plan to rescue the wizard bearer. That's when Christian first saw the troll. “He's followed us all the way,” Hugo said. “He even gave us a ride on his back. Seems he has a fondness for my wife's bread.” Introductions were cut short then, though, as light began to flash along the road to the west. In that light they could see Fabian and Eaglen battling with each other. That's when Hugo intervened.

  “How's the little guy?” Marcus said to Christian, while Stetland attended to Fabian. Then he whispered: “Is he one of those tree folk?”

  “He is,” Christian said. “And he'll be fine, just a few cuts and bruises from where he hit the rocks, that's all. He's been lucky.”

  “And where's the troll?”

  Christian turned to look, but saw nothing. “Probably gone. He didn't seem to like the white fire.”

  “His name is Mollock,” Stetland said. “He guards the bridge over the River Wauldby. Perhaps he's gone back there. Troll's don't roam too far from their home.”

  Stetland bent and picked up the glass bottle Eaglen had threatened them with. A liquid stirred within it. He placed it in his pocket. Be careful with it, Christian thought.

  “What now, then?” Marcus said.

  “We need to get in the sleigh and take Fabian to High Hunsley,” Stetland said.

  There wasn't much room in the sleigh, but they all found places to sit. Gladden played wagoner, holding the horse's reins. They laid Fabian on the floor of the sleigh. Quiggly sat on his chest. Cassandra held the old wizard's hand, which was nearly as white as the snow that surrounded them. The wizard bearer's wrists remained shackled as they were unable to find the key to unlock them.

  “Graff must have the key,” Cassandra said. “What a shame he escaped unharmed.”

  “He won’t survive long in the woods,” Stetland reassured her. “Not on his own. Wild dogs will finish him off.”

  Christian was sitting on one side of the sleigh, next to Marcus. Stetland was perched opposite with Hugo and Poppy.

  “When did you know,” Marcus said to Stetland, “about Sir John?”

  Stetland leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and ran a hand over his stubbly cheeks. “I had my suspicions from the start. There was something not quite right about him. He volunteered to lead the mission to save you, Cassandra, and when told by the king that he must take two guards, he picked two young lads with little experience. But he underestimated you, Marcus, I think we all did.”

  Marcus shook his head. “I panicked back there. I thought about running into the woods and never coming back, I really did.”

  “But you didn't.”

  “Sir John was unhappy when I volunteered to come along,” Gladden said from the front of the sleigh.

  “He didn't want me to tag along, either,” Christian said. “He would've left me with Tarquin Gains, I know he would.”

  “I became certain there was something amiss when we were outside Emily Grouse's cottage,” Stetland continued. “We all took our furs off, because it was too hot, but not Sir John. He was hiding the 'V' tattooed on his arm.”

  “I'm not going to ask how you'd be so warm you'd want to take off your furs,” Cassandra said, “but I wish we were there now. I'm freezing, as is my great-uncle. How long until we reach High Hunsley?”

  “Five or six hours,” Stetland said. “We'll be there before midnight.”

  “All those years,” Cassandra said. “All those years King Bahlinger paid Sir John to do his dirty deeds. I feel betrayed.”

  Stetland nodded in agreement. He looks sad, Christian thought. He's thinking of Elysande. His love. Killed by Sir John on instruction from the king.

  “No more so than I,” Stetland said. “King Bahlinger was like a brother to me. Why would he want Elysande dead?”

  They all remained quiet. Only King Bahlinger knows the answer to that.

  “How did Volk get to Eaglen?” Gladden said. He seemed to be asking the question to himself.

  “He was always a little bit odd, that one,” Poppy said. Then, maybe remembering that she was in the presence of the wizard's family, she added: “But he was a nice man, especially when he was your age, Gladden. Fabian used to bring him to see us in Weedley. He would try and shake apples from the apple trees using just his magic. Fabian could do it as easily as you and I can scratch our nose, but Eaglen was just learning. Sometimes he would get so cross with himself he would storm off and sulk somewhere in the orchard. But he always came back to say sorry and to kiss me on the cheek.” Poppy put a hand to her face, appearing wistful.

  “He was left alone too long down there in the south,” Stetland said. “It can drive a man insane, living on your own. I should have gone to see him sooner.”

  “I'm sure he'll come good,” Hugo said. “He is a wizard of Elt, he'll do what's right.” He looked around the sleigh for confirmation, but all faces cast doubt.

  Later, Hugo and Poppy wept for their friends who had likely perished in the burning of Weedley. Christian thought back to the attack on his own village and recalled the pain-stricken face of his father as he was hacked down by a Savage's axe. He thought too about his mother being carried away on the back of a horse by the Savage with the empty left-eye socket and the red jewel gleaming at his throat. Are you still alive, Mother?
>
  As Christian closed his eyes, letting his head flop backwards onto the side of the sleigh, the reoccurring vision he'd been having came to him again: The stone wall backdrop, the fire glinting off the sword, the blade in Stetland's stomach.

  He opened his eyes, putting an end to the vision. Everyone was quiet; lost in their own thoughts, perhaps. Christian tried to stay awake. He didn't want to see the vision again, not on this night. A time would come when he would need to see it again, though, he knew. And there would come a time when he would have to stop the event it was prophesising from happening. But that's for another time. I'm too tired today.

  CHAPTER 27

  King Merek was sitting in his chambers reflecting on what Mama Maud had told him. She had talked about love. If love had been given and love had been allowed, our troubles would be far less. Far less. Stop loving, or stand in the way of love, then the troubles begin, she had said.

  He didn't know what she had meant, but he did know that he loved his wife Natasha. She was standing at the far end of the room, undressing. He watched her with fascination and awe. Her hair was the colour of the blackest sky, so thick one couldn't gather it and hold its girth in one hand. Her skin was golden, like the warm glow of candlelight. She stood in her smallclothes, her modest breasts cupped by her bodice. She saw him watching and walked to him, hips swaying, her hand trailing suggestively across the bed's ornate footboard. How does she know how to be so seductive?

  When she reached him, she placed both hands on the arms of his chair and leant forwards, showing him her accentuated bosom. He glanced at those mounds only momentarily. It was her face he wanted to take in, and her eyes; they were the deepest brown, like polished chestnut.

  “What troubles you, my dear?” Natasha said, diverting her eyes to his lips. “Perhaps I can make it better.”

  She could, he knew. For an hour, maybe two, he could forget his troubles, and learn every inch of her body all over again. Afterwards she would sleep, but he knew his mind would not.

  “We have to hold counsel, remember?” Merek said. “Adam will be here any moment. And later, when the hour is late, I have to go and open the East Gate.

  She looked at him with suspicion. Those eyes he loved so much widened, her eyebrows raised. “Why ever would you do that? Especially with what happened here just last night.”

  “Mama Maud told me I must.”

  She straightened. “Mama Maud? There are some, including I, who say she's a crazy old women, driven insane by her long age and solitary life. What did she tell you to expect at the East Gate?”

  “She speaks in riddles, as you know. She told me I must open it when the hour is late. That's all.”

  Natasha's lips stretched thin. “I don't like it. The war is too close. We shouldn't be opening our gates at such a late hour. I worry for Lictina too.”

  “I'll take my guards with me. We'll have archers on the walls. No one will get in, my dear. Trust me. Mama Maud is always right. Something important will happen and the urgency of it means the gates must remain open.”

  Her naked shoulders slouched. “I keep trying to forget about the war. I feel like we're so alone, Merek.”

  “There's no need to be afraid. When we hold counsel I intend to tell Adam that we must visit Kingstown on the morrow and speak with King Bahlinger. As much as I don't want to, I feel we must stand together against Volk.”

  There was a knock at the door. Natasha pulled the bedsheet from the bed and covered herself with it.

  “You should get dressed,” Merek said before walking to the door and pulling it open.

  Adam Sacquerville, wisps of grey hair blowing about his balding head, was standing on the landing.

  “It's time to hold counsel,” Adam said. “I'm sorry I'm late, but I've had much work to do. And I have information on the young woman Graff had with him.”

  Merek held up his hand. “I'll be down in a moment.”

  “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

  Merek closed the door and returned to his wife, who was busily dressing. He took her hand and pulled her close. “I love you so much, Queen Natasha of High Hunsley.”

  “As it happens, I love you too, my king.”

  He kissed her on the lips and wished for a few moments to frolic on the bed, but knew they had no time to spare.

  “We should go,” Merek said, reluctantly.

  Downstairs, in the Great Hall, Adam was sitting at the far side of the round table. Scrolls and heaps of paper littered the table top in front of him. He's forever thorough in his research. To Adam's right sat Sir Frederick Corbet, High Hunsley's Grand Master. He was a stocky man in his mid-thirties, knighted after the battle of Drewton Siege some ten years past. To Adam's left, sat Ives Wissant, a steward of some considerable years. Whether he was eighty-two or ninety-two was dependant on what time of day you asked him. Merek valued the steward's knowledge and experience. He brings wisdom to the council, Merek thought. We need his wise old head on this day more than any other.

  All three stood as Merek and Natasha entered the hall. The king found the formality embarrassing and motioned for them to be seated.

  “Such a late hour to be holding counsel,” Natasha said. The moon, as it shone through the tall window at the end of the hall, cast an eerie light across the table.

  “Such important things to discuss,” Adam said.

  Merek waited for his wife to be seated before taking the seat next to her. Candles shimmered on the table top.

  “What of this young woman?” the king said to Adam. He was most interested in this nugget of information.

  “I have it on good authority, Sire, that there are archers positioned around Drewton Hills taking down messenger birds. A farmer was up on the hills just this afternoon hunting for lost sheep when he found a bird dead in the snow. It had this message strapped to its foot.”

  The chamberlain handed the king a folded piece of paper, on which the Kingstown seal was stamped. Merek opened the note and read it out loud: “To Lord Merek of High Hunsley.” Bahlinger still does not acknowledge me as a king. But Merek soon realised the note was not written by King Bahlinger. “The wizard bearer Cassandra Delamare has been taken. The perpetrators are likely headed to High Hunsley. Please help. I await your response. Yours, Princess Everlyn of Kingstown.”

  Merek placed the piece of paper on the table top. “So that's who she was – Cassandra Delamare, the wizard bearer. And we let Graff leave with her.”

  Natasha touched the king's arm. “We were not to know.”

  “He threatened Lictina. I was blinded.”

  “We could send men in pursuit,” Sir Frederick said. “It's dark and the snow is thick, but we might be able to reach them on the morrow. The sleigh their horse is pulling is heavy. The mule will likely tire at some point.”

  Merek thought this over for a moment. “By the morrow she'll be gone. I think mayhap she is out of our reach already.” The king sighed. “We've failed her. The Dark Rider and two men from Kingstown, including a wizard – Gladden, I presume – were in pursuit, according to the gatekeeper. We must hope Stetland brings her home.”

  “As you wish,” Frederick said. “There are other matters to discuss, though. One is the growing war. It won't be long before it's on our doorstep.”

  “Speaking as someone who's lived through many wars,” Ives Wissant said, “the longer we wait, the bigger the problem becomes. I served King Ademar at the battle of Elloughton Dale and the uprising of the Peat People. If Elloughton Dale had fallen then High Hunsley would've been in great danger. But we assisted Lord Chester Boham and helped quash the revolt before it was beyond our control.”

  “I can have men ready by dawn,” Frederick said, animated at the thought of battle. “The North is suffering, Sire. They would welcome us with open arms.”

  “I'm not sure it's just the north,” Adam said, unfolding a map. “Swathes of the north have fallen, yes, but the south is suffering too. We had a refugee from Rowley saying he fled because the war was cl
ose. Volk is growing around us like the jaws of a dragon, Sire. We'll soon be in its belly.”

  Merek rubbed his stubble and drummed his fingers on the table. How long before the war reaches my two sons Deluce and Jumel in Newport? He knew Natasha would be thinking the same.

  “The talk is that Kingstown is short on men,” Frederick said.

  “With the war being fought on so many fronts, it's no wonder,” Ives said.

  “Then we must unite,” Natasha said.

  “I'm not sure King Bahlinger will trust our union,” Ives said. “He'll think it a trap. He already suspects we are in bed with Volk.”

  “And thus will think we had a hand in Cassandra's taking.”

  “He's a fool then,” Natasha said.

  “And what if we yield?” Adam said. They all looked at the chamberlain like he'd sworn in the presence of infants. “Will it be any different from how it is now? We've been letting Graff and his merry band through our gates on a monthly basis, have we not?”

  “That's different,” Merek said, somewhat defensively. “I'm trying to keep the peace, that's all. I was hoping the war would burn itself out.”

  “It's far from burning itself out,” Frederick said. “It's as if a gust of wind has spread it far and wide.

  “And we are fanning the flames,” Ives said.

  “If we yield to Volk then more men like Graff will come,” Merek said. “This city will become like Wyke. I will be removed from the throne and our way of life will be changed forever. We know how they treat women and children there and I won't have that here. We must stand strong.”

  “Then we are at war?” Frederick said.

  “I did not expect this to become a war council,” Natasha said, “but it seems like it has.”

  “Shall we take a vote?” Ives said.

  Merek bowed his head. “All those in favour of declaring war on Volk raise their hand now.”

  Merek raised his hand first; the others followed. Silence filled the room for what seemed like an eternity. A shiver ran down his spine.

  “I want Lictina sent away,” Merek said, breaking the silence. “If we are defeated and our walls breached, my daughter will take the full brunt of Volk's wrath. I cannot let that happen.” The king turned to his wife. “You too, Natasha. You need go with her. You'll be safer away from the city.”