Leviathan's King (The Search for the Brights Book 3)

by Aaron Thomas

  “It’s hard to say, Majesty. He refuses to give a straight answer, but it appears he will simply refuse to give aid to either. At least until the battle is over, of course,” Mica replied.

  Atmos seemed to give it a thought before putting the end of the scroll in the fire and watching it slowly burn away. The king wiped his hands after placing it on a serving tray full of food.

  “What else have you to report, Mica?” The king asked.

  Mica took a seat and a drink before answering, “I found the Elder Wizards. They made no attempt to catch me or attack. They seemed to be on the move towards Zephyr. I watched them for awhile trying to find Alexander, but didn’t find him. Then I noticed they were running from something.”

  The king seemed almost bored at Mica’s ramblings and started to eat a bit.

  Mica continued his story, “I decided to fly the way they came from and found what they were running from. I found the Dark Army. The Elders were running from a soulless army of thousands.”

  Atmos’ hands stopped as if he were contemplating mistakes he had made. It only lasted a moment before his hands started moving again.

  “The Elders, are they going to make it to Zephyr before the Dark Army?” He asked.

  Mica gave a nod of his head, “If they keep their current pace, they will arrive close to one and a half to two days before.”

  “Let us hope they are successful in defeating the darkness. After all, it doesn’t matter who wins that fight. We are going to have to step in and finish the other off,” Atmos said, smiling with meat stuck in his teeth.

  “Should I gather the rest of the wind wizards and see if I can help the Elders fight the Dark Army?” Mica asked as he paled.

  Atmos shook his head, “No. The Elders knew the risk they took going up against the Dark Army. They choose to crown the boy under my nose just to spite me. Now they will suffer.”

  As if the rest of the camp knew to accentuate the king’s voice, an increase in noise could be heard outside the tent. Lorusk quickly ducked outside to find the veterans he had sent as a guard to Cathy now marched towards him, shoving other soldiers out of the way. They split open to reveal a small gray-haired woman in the center. They eyed her as if she was the most dangerous person in the world. Lorusk smiled when he saw that the woman held her chin high amongst the veteran soldiers, showing she would not be intimidated.

  “I am Captain Lorusk, it is a pleasure to meet you, my Lady Hill,” Lorusk said with a bow.

  “I am no lady, young man. I am also not here to talk to you. Show me to your king so I can be on my way,” Cathy said, almost pushing past Lorusk to get inside the tent.

  Lorusk backed up and held the tent’s flap aloft so she could enter without ducking. He quickly ducked into the tent after her. The woman was feisty, and he liked it.

  Inside, the woman took a quick glance around, “I was told that you wanted to speak with me?”

  “Yes,” Atmos responded. “You and your allies have been following me for some time. I was simply wondering why?”

  She cleared her throat and ran a single finger along the map table, making Lieutenant McClanahan back away, nearly tripping. When her finger finished she lifted it and examined it before rubbing her thumb and finger together.

  With her back to the king she spoke, “I’m not following you. We are simply going in the same direction. Now that we are at the Heathmos Pass, we will be traveling northward into the Wind Realm.”

  Atmos watched her with a curiosity that Lorusk had not seen from him in some time.

  “What do you plan to find in the Wind Realm that you cannot find here?” Atmos asked cooly.

  She didn’t hesitate to answer, “Somewhere where magic users are rare. We plan to find a place where the heathens that use magic will not bother us.”

  Atmos closed his eyes and gave a slow nod, “You do know that as we speak, the Elder Wizards and a newly risen Dark Army fights in the Wind Realm?”

  “Neither of them is a concern to us,” Cathy replied before pulling a chair in front of the king’s table to sit.

  Atmos watched her, his eyes thick with thought, trying to figure the woman out.

  “How are they not a concern to you? If the Dark Army wins, you will be consumed. If the Elders win, well, you will have the eldest most powerful magic users walking amongst your people,” Atmos said, pouring a bit of wine into a goblet and stretching it out to her.

  The elderly woman held out her hand refusing the drink.

  “We believe that as long as we do not transgress and use magic, that the Brights will come to save us. We’ll be the first in hundreds of years to push away from the world the Elders and kings have created to separate ourselves. We will be the first people worthy of seeing the Brights since the last Dark Army,” She said, looking around the tent, and making eye contact with anyone that would meet her stare.

  Atmos drank the wine from the goblet he had poured for her and swirled the remainder in the bottom before speaking again.

  “I was going to offer you many things to get your aid in our upcoming battle. Amongst those things were gold, imbuements, nobility, and guards to aid your townships in the southern reaches of the Earth Realm. I now can see that to offer those things is a farce. Instead, I would like to ask for your help in defeating a magic user,” Atmos said, meeting Cathy’s eyes.

  “Aiding one magic wielder to fight another is not our concern or something we wish to get involved in,” She politely said.

  “I don’t want you to fight. I simply want you and your people to help build me some equipment. In exchange for your labors, I will send half of this army, non-wielders, to help rebuild the Wind Realm. If you wish, I will send all my wielders to help usher magic from your borders and leave you, queen of the Wind Realm,” Atmos said, leaning back in his chair.

  For a long moment, there was only silence in the room except for the creaking of Atmos’ chair beneath his weight. Cathy looked to be considering an offer that surprised her more than she’d anticipated.

  Cathy gave a small smile, “It wasn’t long ago that you had my people killed for labors they did. My husband was amongst those people. By the accounts that I heard, you had my husband skewered by your champion. Now you want my people to aid you by doing the same thing they were killed for in a war between magic users?”

  Atmos leaned forward in his chair, “They labored and built defenses for the enemy. Aiding an invading army is an act of treason, and I punished accordingly. Do I regret at this moment that the target of that punishment was your husband? Sure, I wish it was another. Do I regret the decision I made to uphold the land so that riots and other acts of treason didn’t start a civil war? No. Being a leader means that sometimes you have to make the hard decisions. I am asking you to make one now. I ask that you do only what you did before; build defenses and war machines. I will not ask you to fight or use magic. Do these things, and you will save your people months or possibly years of anguish. Let us put our past aside and aid one another.”

  Cathy ignored the offer. “Where is the Champion that killed my husband? Is it you?” She asked, looking at Lorusk.

  The king answered, “The Champion has already been dispatched to where the siege weapons are to be constructed. If you agree to the proposal, I will make sure that he returns to the camp straight away.”

  “No, I want the boy. I want him to be responsible for carrying out all the tasks my husband would have done if he were still here,” Cathy explained.

  The king raised an eyebrow and stroked the beard on his chin, and found some old turkey from earlier and ate it, “I am the one that gave the order to kill him. Perhaps I can employ some of my servants to your charge to carry out the tasks.”

  “No, no. You gave the order, but he is the one that let my husband die slowly and painfully by pinning him to the ground with a sword through his chest. No, I will see that he will receive a just punishment,” Cathy said.

  “The Champion is only obligated to serve me until Springf
est of next year. I cannot give him to you past his military commitment,” the king growled in irritation.

  Cathy looked down, “Commitment or not, as part of this deal you will hand him over to me. I will take his servitude as an apology for ordering my husband to his death. You will give him to me, or our negotiation ends here.”

  The king cleared his throat but before he could answer, Mica, bent over to speak in his ear. Atmos gave a nod and took a moment to contemplate his answer.

  “The boy has failed me on a couple occasions. If it were not for one man’s mercy and refusal to kill him, the Champion wouldn’t still be alive. After the battle, I will relinquish him into your custody until the time of Springfest. At that time, I will hold no authority over him, and you may take him into your custody if you wish,” The king said slowly as if trying to hold back his irritation.

  Cathy bowed her head, and Atmos continued, “Although, I think it’s unwise of you to try and tame that one. He has a problem with authority no matter what the station. I will warn you that as part of this agreement that I will not be held responsible for any destruction or pain he may cause you.”

  “I understand completely,” She said, bowing her head.

  “I suppose you will want him stripped of his imbuements before you take custody of him?” Atmos asked.

  “Of course. Matter of fact, you will keep your magic users well away from my people's camp. We want none of the wraths that you will surely incur by dealing with the Bright’s power,” Cathy said.

  “So it is agreed then? You and your people will help us build our defenses and siege weapons for this battle?” Atmos asked, leaning forward on his table, making it creak.

  Cathy gave a slow nod, “We will begin construction just as soon as you remove your spies from my people.”

  Atmos gave a small laugh, “I don’t have spies in your camp.”

  Cathy smiled, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice a man’s hand shaking as he tries to control his imbued strength. Perhaps you didn’t think I would notice that a man would heal faster than those around him because of water imbuements? Majesty, I am no fool. I knew you would have spies in our midst. You either issue the order for them to return or I send them back in the way you sent home my husband.”

  Atmos tried to maintain his face but noticed he was tapping his fingers on the table top.

  “I will issue the order,” He said, finally.

  Cathy bowed her head again, “As a show of good faith, I have already removed my spies from your army. As soon as your men are clear, we will begin construction.”

  Atmos stood and started to round the table. He held out his hand to take hers. Instead of giving her hand to him, she placed an unsealed scroll into his palm and left the tent. Lorusk watched as his king read through the scroll. Soon, the scroll was tossed into the stack with the rest of the map table.

  “Issue the order, Captain,” Atmos commanded.

  Lorusk went to the map table and pulled out a quill and a small piece of parchment, issuing the order. The small piece of paper contained a cipher and gave no indication of who was actually issuing the order. After writing it, Lorusk passed it to a guard nearby and relayed to dispatch it using a trained bird.

  When the guard left, Lorusk took up the scroll Cathy had given Atmos. It was in the king’s own handwriting, issuing a secret mission for Mica. The mission was so secret that Lorusk himself had not been trusted to see, and yet, the elementalist had managed to intercept it.

  **********

  The night fell over the humble camp. Bowie sat to one side and wound a bit of string through the spine of a feather. He had managed to make three dozen arrows since he made it back to Auburn and her new companion, Bastion. Two days they waited for an answer from the rogue wizards hiding in the depths of the swamp.

  He was at least happy Dorian had done as he promised; Bowie was returned to the camp by nightfall. Three young wizards were sent to make his journey safe and quick past the creatures that swam in the murky water. Bowie liked the speed at which they avoided the dangers that lurked within the trees.

  Auburn sat as she normally did, close to Bastion as she used rocks and sticks in the dirt to draw maps or the layout of rooms. She told the storyteller every detail of every interaction Bowie had with her. The red-haired girl sometimes glanced in his direction to then whisper into Bastion’s ear. It was obvious enough that she was telling him parts of the story she didn’t want Bowie to know. He hoped that if Bastion did end up traveling with them, he would get to hear a bit of the story that was being kept from him.

  Most of the stories Bowie didn’t mind being told in their entirety, but some instances he cleared his throat to stop something from being said. After all, no one really needed to know where the secret entrance was to Deuterium. They would only need to know that there was, indeed, a secret entrance.

  The stories she told were only ones that she had been a part of, fortunately. Bowie wasn’t sure any good would come of the stories Bastion would tell, but he was satisfied that his past wouldn’t be a part of it. Bowie forbade anything that would stain the character of his friend Kilen. He felt as if Auburn was critical of the new king. She often painted him as arrogant, bossy, and self-centered. The truth was she knew little about him, and only what she had learned from others in Leviathan.

  Bastion agreed with Bowie that painting the new king in this light would have an opposing effect on their ability to recruit soldiers. Bowie threatened to hang him from a tree with his lute’s strings if he ever heard him singing badly about his friend. He hoped the threat was more than enough of its own to keep the man from deviation.

  “Master Crescent,” Auburn said, trying to get his attention.

  She’d called him the formal name anytime Bastion was near. He wasn’t sure if it was a newfound respect or Auburn’s way of painting him as a new legend in the making. He did his best to ignore the title, but he did like that Auburn was finally treating him the way she should. The last time she had given him any sort of guff was just before he ventured into the swamp.

  Bowie looked up from his work and looked at Auburn without saying a word.

  “How long are we going to wait here?” She asked.

  He’d heard the question before and already answered it twice.

  “As long as it takes to get an answer,” Bowie responded.

  Bastion raised a piece of charcoal in the air he was using to write with, “Even if the battle starts without us?”

  Bowie dropped his partially finished arrow into the pile with the others. He would need some more materials before he could finish the last five.

  “The battle may have started already,” He said, looking over the smoldering fire. “We have no idea what’s going on in the world. The Dark Army may have overwhelmed the Elders and marched on Leviathan for all we know. My mission is to recruit soldiers and wielders to an army.”

  “Even if that army doesn’t exist?” Asked Auburn.

  Bowie ground his teeth together. He knew they would follow his orders if he gave them, but he did his best not to tell them what to do. The bond between Auburn and himself was a strange one, and he didn’t want to make it seem like he needed her to stay. She was not supposed to be his responsibility anymore, and yet she clung to him like the moss on the side of the swamp’s trees.

  “When I get an answer I will leave. Neither of you is forced to stay here. If you think it’s wiser to leave than to stay, then do so. I will wait for an answer. The potential to have hundreds of wizards join our forces, no matter what is left, is better than going back with only a handful of arrows,” Bowie said, starting to the pick up another arrow shaft.

  The camp fell silent once again as the small crackle of the fire consumed any conversation to be had. Bastion soon started plucking the strings of his lute as he hummed and stared at his story notes. Bowie knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have to tell the man to start in on another tune. The man was practically obsessed with getting every note and word ri
ght. He played tunes over and over until he got it perfect.

  Auburn cleaned up the remnants of the meal she had prepared. It was her turn to cook, and she still argued that she was not there for that reason. Bowie ignored her arguments until she finally started cooking in silence. Arguing was Auburn’s way, even if she knew she would lose. She mostly fought against doing anything that would normally be considered a woman’s task. Bowie learned that if he let her rant for a moment, she would take up the task on her own.

  When she finished cleaning the meal, she sat down beside Bowie, leaning against a fallen log. He didn’t look at her, but he could see that she was looking at him as the fire light washed over her face.

  “You know I don’t want to leave,” She said, waiting for an answer.

  Bowie gave a small laugh, “Then why do you continue to ask why we are here?”

  He turned to face her and could see a small smile creep on her face. The sound of Bastions lute covered their conversation from his ears.

  “Because you look as though you want to leave. When you leave, I will follow. Not a moment before,” Auburn said, leaning back against the log.

  If Bowie had a hat, he would have pulled it low on his brow. Instead, he sat watching the fire until the flames died low. Bastion had made up his bedroll after finally being allowed to finish one of his songs. Auburn still laid beside him with her head on the log.A slow, weak snore emitted from her. Her arms were crossed and covered in small bumps, saying she was cold.

  He rose to go relieve himself and tossed a couple more fresh logs on the red glowing coals. A fresh set of sparks took flight and was carried off on a gentle breeze. He watched them disappear as he walked to the edge of trees surrounding the swamp. Emptying his bladder, he watched as the tree tops began to sway and move as a wind rolled in. Opening his vision to that of wind magic, he could see it was being directed by an unseen force.

  Bowie tried to remain calm as he looked over at the fire and his sleeping friends. His bow lay leaning against the log only a couple arm’s lengths from Auburn. He stretched and attempted to feign a lazy, tired walk back to the log where he sat down. Pulling one of the finished arrows from the stack, he knocked it in the bow and gave it a pull as if he was testing its length and kept his eyes on the wind magic.