Battle for Elt: The Taking of the Wizard Bearer

by A. C. Hutchinson

  “And my sword too,” Marcus said. The thought of battle – a much greater battle than the one he had encountered while rescuing Cassandra – filled him with dread. I may not return from this one. So many soldiers die on the battlefield . . . and I am ill prepared.

  “Can I come too?” Christian said.

  “You must stay here, Christian,” Stetland said. “A battlefield is no place for a child. Besides, you need to keep Quiggly company.”

  The squaggle cooed from his seat on Fabian's chest. The boy looked unimpressed. He'll probably make a better soldier than I, this one, Marcus thought.

  “We need to move,” Sir Arthur said.

  They made a makeshift stretcher for Fabian using bedsheets. Stetland, Marcus, Gladden and Sir Arthur carefully carried the great wizard down through the castle, with the king and the Grand Master leading the way. At the rear came Cassandra, Hugo and Poppy, and Christian. Quiggly scurried on bird-like feet, wailing like a wraith.

  Queen Natasha was standing in the entrance to the Great Hall with Ives and Adam.

  “How is the wizard?” the queen said.

  “Not good,” Merek said. “Where is Lictina?”

  “She's asleep.” She looked over her shoulder to where a child-like shape lie beneath a blanket on a long bench.

  After the king had kissed his wife on the cheek, they began to shuffle the wizard towards the door.

  Outside the wind had increased its blow, whipping up snow, forming mini whirlwinds that swirled like dancers. Marcus looked around, trying to search out Amber, but The Warrens whore was nowhere to be seen. I must see her before I leave, he thought. They placed the bedsheet stretcher down on the snow. Cassandra knelt by her great-uncle's side and took his hand in her own. Marcus stepped away and went to one of the castle guards standing by the door.

  “Did a young women by the name of Amber leave a message for me?” he said to the guard.

  “I'm afraid not,” the guard said.

  Marcus backed away, disappointed.

  Soldiers were beginning to gather in the street outside the castle, some still pulling on their armour. I wonder how many were in bed just a short time ago.

  “Have them line up,” Stetland said to the king.

  At first the mass of soldiers had no shape or order, but slowly the men got in line and formed a column, ten men wide, that stretched down the street and out of the west gate, disappearing into the cloak of darkness beyond. And still more soldiers arrived, taking their places at the back of the column. All of High Hunsley's men were foot soldiers. The thousand-strong Kingstown army, all of which were on horseback, were positioned at the head of the column. Sir Arthur Drayton said his goodbyes and went to organise his men; he would lead the charge.

  Cassandra and Gladden were saying their goodbyes too; only theirs were more tearful. The great wizard was lying on the ground, his skin almost as white as the snow around him. Nearby, Hugo and Poppy hugged each other. Gladden knelt by his great-uncle's side.

  “You need to put your staffs together,” Stetland said to the younger wizard. “Like this.” He clanked the two staffs. “Flow your energy into Fabian.”

  “I think we are just about done here,” Merek said. “That's nine thousand men, or as near as.”

  Gladden closed his eyes.

  It's happening, Marcus thought. This is it. But where's Amber?

  Seconds later, Fabian sucked in air and opened his eyes.

  “Uncle,” Cassandra said, tears spilling down her cheeks.

  Quiggly scurried up Fabian's body and wrapped his long, gangly arms around the great wizard's neck, burying his face into a mass of grey beard.

  “That's enough, my friend,” Fabian said. “Let me breathe.” The squaggle seated himself on the great wizard's chest and cooed.

  Stetland knelt. “Fabian, we haven't much time—”

  “I may have been drinking with Death, but I was also listening to your plan.” Fabian’s voice was meek and croaky. “Dispersion, right?”

  The Dark Rider smiled and took the great wizard's hand. “Can I say it's been an honour. The battles, the friendship . . .”

  “The honour was all mine. Take care of the boy. I think he's special.”

  “We must hurry,” King Merek said.

  “Cassandra,” Fabian said, placing his hand on her cheek. “Hear me and hear me well. The answer . . . the answer is love.”

  “What do you mean?” Cassandra said. She wiped a tear away from her cheek with the back of her hand.

  “My parents loved each other. Their marriage was arranged, just like yours will be, but by chance they were a perfect match. They fell hopelessly and madly in love.”

  “Uncle, you've never told me this before . . .”

  “That's because I've just spoken with my father. He came to me.” Marcus exchanged glances with Stetland, who looked bemused too. “You see, it's love that creates a powerful wizard. You must fall in love, Cassandra, you must.” Fabian began to cough. “I'm fading again, let me get on with this. Leave me now.”

  Quiggly hugged Fabian again. “Let's have none of that. You belong to Gladden now, Quiggly.” He kissed the squaggle on the head.

  “I'll take care of him,” Gladden said.

  “Be a great wizard,” Fabian said to the younger.

  “I can never be as great as you, but I'll try my very best.”

  “Cassandra,” Stetland said, “will you stay with the boy?”

  “I would if I knew where he was.”

  Marcus looked around. Where is he? But a fairer sight greeted him. Amber was standing with her head slightly to one side, her blue eyes glinting in the light from a nearby torch, her blonde hair falling loose over her fur-clad shoulders. He was glad to see the scar on her left cheek. This one isn't a Soul Eater. She's real.

  He walked to her and wrapped his arms around her curvy figure. He planted a wet kiss on her full lips and waited for the slap that would surely follow. You have to pay a whore before you can kiss her, he warned himself. But Amber didn't slap him, instead she stretched her lips into the warmest smile he'd seen for days.

  “I must go,” Marcus said, but his heart and his loins longed to stay.

  “I'll be waiting for you,” she said. “The queen has given me a room in the castle, for tonight at least.”

  He smiled and promised to return. It was a promise he might not be able to keep, he knew.

  Stepping away, he tried to remember every soft line on her face, every tousle of her blonde hair, every curve of her body. This could be the last time I see such beauty, he thought.

  “Marcus,” Stetland shouted, “are you coming?”

  The young soldier gave Amber a wave and then took his place in the throng of High Hunsley's gathered army.

  CHAPTER 34

  “What will you have me do, Your Majesty?” Amy said. She was as nervous as a prisoner about to meet his death.

  “I'll have you kiss me,” King Bahlinger said.

  On looking upon the king's unkempt beard, the sickness in her stomach intensified. She had only ever kissed one person before and that had been a boy in the market square. She had been trying to get him to give her a free pair of shoes for Millicent. The boy had stuck his tongue in her mouth while having a good squeeze of her left breast. Afterwards, he told her she could have a measly half a crown reduction on the price of the shoes. Annoyed and humiliated, she took his testicles in her hand and squeezed them hard enough to make him cry. People stopped and starred as the boy wiped tears from his eyes. She still didn't get the shoes, though.

  “Do you not want to kiss me?” King Bahlinger said.

  No, I really don't. But she had to, she knew. She thought of why she had to do this and her brothers and sisters’ names: James, Millicent, Rowan, Thomas, Sheena. She found it helped her think of this unspeakable deed as just another job, one that was well-paid and came with new living quarters.

  Closing her eyes, she bent and met the king's lips with her own. His beard pricked her skin wi
th what felt like a thousand tiny needle heads. Surprised, she tried to pull away, but he had his hand behind her head keeping her close. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, throwing her into a panic. She made a fresh effort to pull free; this time he let her go.

  “You're not as comely as you were earlier, child,” the king said. “Is there something the matter?”

  “You pricked my lips, that's all.” She rubbed her mouth.

  “Do I scare you?”

  “You don't scare me at all.” She tried to sound confident, but there was a quiver in her voice she couldn't hide. “Unless you want me to be scared, that is?”

  “Scared is one thing, child. But frigid is another.”

  “Shall I take my clothes off? Or would you like to do it for me?” The words repulsed her.

  “I'd like to see your breasts. It's a long time since I've sucked on teats as full as yours. My wife's are like empty sacks.”

  Her heart was pounding and she was breathing heavily. She turned away from the king, showing him the laces on her bodice. “Unlace me, then.” My voice is too high and shaky. I must sound like I want to cry . . . and perhaps I do.

  The king began to fumble with her laces. “It's a long time since I've unlaced one of these.”

  He was managing it, though. The bodice became loose and eventually fell to the floor. Amy put her hands to her large breasts. They had been that size since turning fourteen, which had made her very popular with the boys, although the attention was always unwanted. They have always been my curse.

  “Turn around, child,” King Bahlinger urged. She did as she was bid, still cupping her breasts. “Take away your hands.”

  Reluctantly, she exposed her breasts to him. The cold air chilled them and turned her nipples hard.

  The king's eyes flicked from one breast to the other. “Such large dark bits.”

  Areolas, you fool, she thought.

  He took her hand and pulled her close. She was standing between his legs when he took one of her nipples into his mouth. She winced when he sucked too hard. He moved across to the other breast and did the same there. His hands were wandering too; she felt one under her dress. He seemed disappointed when he found her to be wearing drawers.

  “Take them off,” he said.

  She turned away from him and lifted up the hem of her dress. She untied the string around her underclothes and then let them fall to the floor. A fresh wave of sickness hit her. I want to run, she thought. I want to run out of the door and never come back. She settled herself by thinking of the prize and repeated her brothers and sisters’ names again: James, Millicent, Rowan, Thomas, Sheena.

  She turned back to the king. He looked expectantly at her. Perhaps he wants me to lift my dress and expose myself. Amy didn't, though. Instead she stepped between his legs once again and then closed her eyes as she waited for the inevitable. It wasn't long before the king's hand found its way under her dress, trailing a finger up the inside of her thigh. She was repulsed and was glad he wasn't looking at her face else he might have seen her displeasure. She wanted to slam her legs shut, trapping his hand, stopping it from reaching the prize. When his fingers met the lips between her legs, she looked to the ceiling and put her mind somewhere else. James, Millicent, Rowan, Thomas, Sheena. James, Millicent, Rowan, Thomas, Sheena. James, Millicent, Rowan, Thomas, Sheena. She felt his cold finger enter her.

  “Place your foot on the bed,” he urged.

  With the ball of her foot resting on the edge of the bed, she felt even more exposed. It's like I'm being inspected by a nurse who wishes to discover whether I've flowered.

  “I have a brother, you know,” Bahlinger said.

  A brother? The king doesn't have a brother.

  “In truth, he's my half-brother,” Bahlinger continued. “You see, my father was a womaniser. During his reign there wasn't a girl in Kingstown safe from his randy cock. If a girl caught his eye he would have her. My mother knew of his infidelity, of course, but she turned a blind eye to it. She had a good life and intended to keep it that way.” Why is he telling me this? Amy thought. His cold finger was still inside her. “As you might expect, his infidelity led to a number of unwanted pregnancies. Those mothers didn’t carry his child for long, though, as he would have them seen to; the babe destroyed in the womb. Sometimes, though, such techniques failed. In those rare cases, when the child was born, it would be drowned, on the king's orders. There was one girl, however, who he loved so much he couldn't bring himself to kill the child that grew inside her. Quite ironic, really, that childbirth ended her life. But the babe . . . well, the babe survived. My father took that child into the royal house and told everyone it was an orphan.”

  “Stetland? Stetland Rouger?” Amy said. “Stetland is your half-brother?”

  King Bahlinger nodded. “I had never strayed like my father, until now. I kept my vows, even though my love for Rose died a long, long time ago. Can I be forgiven for this one moment of promiscuous pleasure, Amy?”

  “Stetland is your half-brother?” Amy said again, as if the words didn't ring true.

  “Yes. Is it so hard to believe? I thought people would've guessed. I should've known, really, my father being the good liar he was. He even sold my mother the same story. To her dying day she thought Stetland was a poor little orphan child, left upon the castle steps by some whore. He finally told me the truth on his deathbed. Imagine how surprised I was. But only my wife and I know, Amy. Only we know the truth of it.”

  And now I know too. Amy didn't want to know the truth. She wanted the king to take it back. He's had a drink. Perhaps in the morn, when he's sober, he'll regret telling me and have me hanged. “So Stetland doesn't . . .”

  “Know? Of course not. He thinks he's an orphan child, just like everyone else.”

  “Why wouldn't you tell him?”

  He pulled his finger from her like a cork from a bottle and then looked at her with an angry brow. Have I said too much?

  “If something were to happen to me, then Everlyn, being my only legitimate child, is next in line to the throne. But if something were to happen to Everlyn, then Stetland would have a claim.”

  “Would that be so bad, if he were to take the throne?”

  “It depends who he decides to marry. Stetland once thought he was in love with Lady Elysande of High Hunsley. Can you imagine? A child with the bloodline of Lord Ademar of High Hunsley eventually taking the throne? No. I couldn’t have that.”

  “Lady Elysande was murdered.” It had happened before Amy was born, but she remembered her mother telling her how the Dark Rider's betrothed, Lady Elysande, was murdered on her way back home to High Hunsley.

  Bahlinger had a goblet in his hand. He threw back his head and emptied the remaining wine into his mouth. When he started talking again his speech was slurred. “Do you want to know what happened on that day? I’ll tell you. Our nurse discovered Elysande was pregnant. She was carrying Stetland's child. I sent her away, back to High Hunsley. She was happy; couldn't wait to tell Stetland and her father the good news. How could I let that child grow inside her knowing what I did about who Stetland really was? My father would have turned in his grave at such a thought. A child of High Hunsley, in line to the throne.” Bahlinger scoffed.

  Amy stepped backwards. “What did you do?”

  Bahlinger looked at her with a heavy stare. “What had to be done.”

  “You had Lady Elysande killed, didn't you?”

  Bahlinger's eyes became empty of emotion. “Sir John Bretel did the job. He and a group of his men.”

  “My mother told me that Lady Elysande was raped before she was murdered. You're an animal.”

  “My hands are clean.” As if to demonstrate, Bahlinger held his palms up to her. “It was Sir John and his men who did the deed.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Christian knew he would regret leaving the great wizard Fabian without saying goodbye, but he had other matters to attend to. When he had stepped out of the castle and into the cold night air, w
ith Fabian on a stretcher, a voice had scratched at his brain. It was a woman's voice, old and cold. She had put her voice in his head, just like the Monks of the Night had done in the tunnel. She spoke of things she couldn’t possibly know, like the vision he’d had of Stetland. “You must save him,” the voice said. Christian had asked “how” but received no answer.

  He had to go to Kingstown with Stetland, he knew.

  Around him, soldiers shuffled into line. Through the crowd he could see Marcus. Christian quickly slipped between two High Hunsley footmen. One looked down: “What are you doing, boy?”

  Christian didn't answer. Instead he pushed his way deeper into the mass of soldiers. They were so tightly packed together that he had to get down onto his hands and knees and crawl through their legs. It was there he sat and waited, with his hands stinging from touching the cold snow. Occasionally a booted foot would kick him, but with the soldiers pressed so tightly together there was no room for any of them to look down and see him.

  Christian had once seen the Northern Lights. On a summer's evening back in his village that had been. He and his friends had watched nature's show in awe, none of them speaking until the river of light faded from the darkening sky. As he sat in the snow by the soldiers' feet, lights similar to those he had seen on that evening flashed around him, weaving this way and that like colourful snakes. He flinched as a stream of light glazed his side. What will happen if it touches me? he thought. He had visions of being sliced in two. But they weren't real visions, he knew, not like the one he'd had of Stetland and the blade.

  When one of the snaking streams of light hit him in the chest, he expected something nasty to happen. Instead, he felt only a tingle running through his body, like pins and needles in a blood-starved foot. He felt giddy, too. Once, he'd taken several swigs of his father's ale, which had caused his head to swim. The feeling he experienced as the light passed through him was similar to that. Adding to his confusion, the snow-laden ground grew distant beneath him. We’re flying. Most of the soldiers cried out with exhilaration, but there were some who shouted out in terror. Christian did neither, he only sat there, watching the ground beneath him fade to black. High Hunsley was gone. But the snakes of light continued to wind their way through the soldiers' legs. Then, a snake hit Christian square in the face, filling his eyes with the colours of the rainbow. Afterwards, he wanted to heave up the contents of his stomach, but he knew it could be messy if he did. He managed to calm his guts and eventually he felt better. Less than a minute had passed when the blackness beneath began to turn white once more. Has it not worked? Are we still in High Hunsley and not in Kingstown? As the cold snow cushioned his bottom, the soldiers began to disperse. A few stood with their hands on their knees spilling the contents of their stomachs. In the distance was a wall and a silhouetted city skyline like none he had ever seen.