Justified (#2 Divided Destiny)

by Taitrina Falcon

  He was probably at his lowest point now. Physically tired but his mind racing, unable to allow him to rest. It was time for the next stage, to finish the job of driving the wedge between Kaslea and the Northern Kingdoms. Eleanor clicked her fingers and a vial appeared on the dressing table in front of her. It was crystal, and sealed, keeping the smoky gray substance safely contained inside it. Carefully, Eleanor picked it up, securely holding it in one hand.

  She swept out of her quarters and through the corridors of the palace. This late in the evening, there was little activity anywhere. Even most of the servants had finished for the day, although a few would be around all night, in case any of the royal family or their guests required anything. Eleanor reached the wooden door that led into the library and tapped gently.

  “Come in,” Prince Edmund called.

  Eleanor hesitantly stepped inside. “I don’t mean to intrude, Prince Edmund. I realize the hour is late.”

  “No, it’s fine, Queen Eleanor, please sit if you wish.” Prince Edmund smiled tiredly and gestured to the armchair on the opposite side of the small table. There was a goblet of untouched mead resting on his side. “Can I ring for a drink for you?”

  “Thank you, but no,” Eleanor refused. “I’m afraid I am not the bearer of good news.”

  “Oh?” Prince Edmund asked. He laughed brokenly. “That rather seems to be the theme lately.”

  Eleanor managed a warm smile, which Prince Edmund returned. She took the offered seat and look at him. Over the last few days, she had made a point to spend time with the young prince. Prince Edmund was naturally well aware of her reputation, but he had shown a willingness to look past it, or perhaps not believe everything he was told. That made selling the Northern Kingdoms supposed treachery harder, as he would not believe without proof.

  Which was why she was there that evening, to finally offer him absolute proof that could not be denied. Eleanor supposed, rather cynically, that she was beautiful and charming when she chose, and she knew how to manipulate men, even if it did make her sick to her stomach. They were such pathetic creatures. Prince Edmund at least looked her in the eyes, and not lower, as so many did.

  “A travelling merchant came to my kingdom and started telling rather tall tales. My knights questioned him once he had sobered up, and his story remained unchanged. He spoke of a strangely garbed man weaving magic around a dragon,” Eleanor explained seriously.

  Prince Edmund blinked and let out a breath. He shook his head. “A tall tale indeed.”

  “I was skeptical myself, but I’m afraid there can be no doubt,” Eleanor said gently. She placed the vial on the table between them. “The merchant’s memory of the encounter. I understand Kaslea has their own sorcerer who can verify its authenticity.”

  “Yes,” Prince Edmund confirmed hesitantly, his eyes fixed on the vial. “You have seen the memory for yourself?”

  “I have,” Eleanor said. She paused, and waited for Prince Edmund to look at her, for him to see her reluctance. “I could show it to you, if you wish,” she offered.

  Prince Edmund hesitated and reached underneath his shirt, to toy with a pendant necklace. The cord was thin black rope, and the pendant roughly carved wood, displaying the symbol of Kaslea. It was a very masculine design, and obviously the means by which Prince Edmund could summon the Kaslea sorcerer.

  Yannick hadn’t provided Eleanor with anything similar; all she had to do was speak his name. It was something which terrified her, if she thought on it long enough, especially because she couldn’t detect any spells around her with that purpose. Also, she had tried and failed to replicate the magic.

  There was no spell that she knew about which could pick up a verbal trigger. It was very intimidating. She had once told a knight to say Yannick’s name out of her presence; the knight didn’t know why, or to whom the name referred, but knew better than to ask questions. Yannick hadn’t appeared, nor had he given any sign he knew of the experiment, and he would have found a way to taunt her with his knowledge if he had known.

  It appeared that the spell was only on her; she alone could not speak Yannick’s name without him appearing. It would make plotting against Yannick when the time came considerably more difficult, especially as Eleanor didn’t know what other monitoring spells he might have placed. That was a problem for another day; her current problem still appeared to be hesitating.

  “You don’t like magic?” Eleanor asked.

  She arched an eyebrow curiously, although she wasn’t surprised. Very few were comfortable with the idea of magic, as it was power that they didn’t have. People always feared what they couldn’t control, and then there was the jealousy. It was far worse among powerful men, as magic was the one power that they couldn’t take for themselves.

  They tried to control it by forcing any sorcerer who had any power into service. They made sorcerers into useful pets, but however useful it proved, they still never liked magic. Prince Edmund frowned, and let the pendant drop back down underneath his shirt.

  “In truth, I don’t really understand it,” Prince Edmund admitted. He shrugged. “However, Cyrus has served Kaslea with honor almost all his life. He is an old man, most comfortable in the forest. I prefer to summon him only when necessary. His power should be respected; he is no pet.” Prince Edmund’s mouth twisted in warped humor at the comment, unknowingly echoing Eleanor’s own recent thoughts.

  She frowned. Prince Edmund continued to surprise her, and that made her rather uncomfortable. She had dismissed him as a foolish young man, the ‘boy who would be king,’ and had planned on taking his crown before he could ever claim his rightful title, the title he had spurned out of respect for his deceased father. However, he was most unlike any other noble she had ever encountered.

  Eleanor felt the faint stirrings of guilt. Prince Edmund wasn’t like King Augustus, or King Oswald, or Lord Greenford. He appeared to be an anomaly, a reasonably decent man, especially for the position he held. Prince Edmund had respect; he seemed to be a good ruler, and genuinely cared about his people and not just what they could do for him.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a friendly neighbor. Perhaps she didn’t have to conquer Kaslea. She could leave Prince Edmund alone, leave Kaslea alone. This memory vial would assure him of the Northern Kingdoms’ guilt regarding the dragon. He would never suspect that she had set the dragon on his kingdom. They could start fresh, form an alliance.

  She mentally shook her head; it was nothing more than a foolish dream. There was always the possibility that her machinations could be discovered. She had done too much and gone too far to stop now. If she left Kaslea alone, and they learned the truth in the future, then they would seek revenge against her and Sintiya.

  The only way was forward. The little voice in the back of her head whispered that it was wrong, and that it wasn’t too late, but it was too late. It was too late for her. This was all she knew, and it had to be done for her to be truly safe. Yannick was right about that. Kaslea would be hers; there was no other choice.

  “That’s a relief. Nobody could help what power they are born with.” Eleanor gave a self-deprecating smile.

  “Anyway, I thank you for your offer, that would be very useful,” Prince Edmund accepted gratefully. “Cyrus is not responding, but it is no matter. While this is urgent, it can stand to wait long enough for a knight to travel to his home.”

  “Very well,” Eleanor murmured. She made to move her hand, to wave it over the vial. Before she could summon the magic, Prince Edmund grabbed her hand. She flinched at the contact and he immediately released her.

  “Queen Eleanor,” Prince Edmund started awkwardly. “We might not always see eye to eye on policy. Your kingdom’s war against Gatlan on Kaslea’s border is killing my people and driving them from their homes. However, what we must do as rulers is not always what we would wish to do as people. You are most welcome in Kaslea, and your magic causes me no concern.”

  Eleanor swallowed. She could feel how genuine he wa
s, and that just made it worse. However, it meant that she had succeeded in gaining his trust, so what came next should be easy to execute, even if it was harder to live with.

  She nodded in acknowledgement, managing another tremulous slight smile, and waved her hand over the vial. A thin line of crimson flame slowly emerged from her hand. It wrapped around the stopper and removed it. The gray smoke immediately started to flow out of the open top. The magic line wrapped around it, circling it so that it did not escape.

  Eleanor blew and the smoke moved out so that it was in front of them both. She waved her hand again and the gray smoke changed, instead showing the scene of a forest, from the perspective of the travelling merchant who had donated the memory. On one side, a horse could be seen, the merchant’s hand holding the reins and steering the horse as he walked alongside, the horse already burdened pulling the cart with his wares.

  The tree line was solid on either side of the dirt track, but it only took a moment for the tree line to break on the right. The merchant looked over and stumbled backwards. If the sound were audible, Eleanor knew that they would have heard him swear. She could have enabled sound, but it was unnecessary and took a lot more power. There was something to be said for the silent picture; it meant the sight had more impact.

  The dragon could clearly be seen through the gap in the trees. It was grounded, seated on its haunches like a giant overgrown domesticated animal. Its head was down, curled up on itself almost like it was sleeping. A few feet in front of the dragon was a man Eleanor knew Prince Edmund would recognize as the Northern Kingdoms sorcerer—Kevall.

  Kevall wasn’t residing in this palace. However, he had transported Lord Greenford to this summit and Prince Edmund had met him. There could be no mistake as to his identity. His face was clearly visible in the memory.

  “You are sure this is a genuine memory?” Prince Edmund pressed.

  Eleanor sighed and banished the image, returning the memory back to the vial and replacing the stopper so that the gray smoke was contained once more. She knew that Prince Edmund’s exposure to magic was limited, and he didn’t know much of the possibilities. Some considered magic to be without limits and assumed sorcerers were capable of anything, which was a highly unrealistic expectation and only fed into the fear people felt towards magic.

  From what she had observed of Prince Edmund’s character, she didn’t believe he suffered from such delusions. His question wasn’t really saying he doubted the veracity of the memory, it was more a denial of what the memory had shown him. He didn’t wish it to be true, so he was pleading for there to be an alternative so he didn’t have to face a tumultuous future.

  “I am,” Eleanor stated with certainty. “But I understand, of course, that you will wish your own sorcerer to verify it. This memory has the potential to change the future of your kingdom. If it were me, I wouldn’t leave anything to chance.”

  Prince Edmund nodded in agreement. “I have had Mathis, one of my top knights, listen for any information among the visiting knights. He has also been investigating the unfortunate attacks. I will have him leave for Cyrus with this at once.” He picked up the memory vial and rose from his chair. “Thank you for bringing this to me, and allowing me to view it.”

  “Under the circumstances, I could do no less. I am very sorry,” Eleanor said sympathetically.

  “Goodnight,” Prince Edmund said softly as he left the room.

  The library door quietly clicked shut. Eleanor sighed heavily. She should have felt victorious. Her plan had worked. Within a day, Prince Edmund should have confirmation from his sorcerer that the memory was genuine. The alliance between the Northern Kingdoms and Kaslea would be broken beyond repair; both kingdoms would be weaker for it, and war was not out of the question.

  Kaslea would no doubt demand reparations and justice. The Northern Kingdoms would deny their involvement, which Prince Edmund would not believe having now seen proof. He would view their refusal to admit their culpability as an escalation. The Northern Kingdoms were mostly protected by the mountain range that stretched from coast to coast, separating their kingdom from the others. However, Sintiya was between Kaslea and the Northern Kingdoms, and the mountain pass was dangerous but usable.

  Prince Edmund would no doubt come to Sintiya for an alliance, or at least agreement that they could march troops across Sintiya’s land, perhaps use their northern ports for supplies to reduce their sailing time. It was help she would gladly provide in return for a few concessions, and then Prince Edmund would hand her control of Kaslea before he even realized it.

  She didn’t feel all that victorious, though. There was no satisfaction to be found in this victory. Yannick had done his part well; he had lent his power to the ruse. The dragon was nothing more than an illusion, already dead by the time the memory was made. Eleanor had maintained the illusion while Yannick had disguised himself as the Northern Kingdoms sorcerer.

  The merchant was real; Prince Edmund could ask to speak with him and question him as much as he wished. He believed what he had seen. The memory would be verified as a real memory because it was. There was no way anyone could suspect the truth.

  She had thought just days earlier that the plot with the dragon had failed, and worse that it had left Sintiya vulnerable should Kaslea discover the truth. She had now turned that failure into a victory, fixing the vulnerability and furthering her plans by moving against the Northern Kingdoms.

  Perhaps if she told herself it was a victory enough times, it would start to feel like one.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The previous day, the three marines had left King Oswald’s palace, in the heart of Gatlan, relatively light of heart. If Gatlan had been truthful, and so far there had been no reason to mistrust them, then this was their last quest in this world. They would then have everything they needed to return to Earth and save it from the alien invaders that they hoped were still besieging the planet.

  It was possible that they would return to find a completely destroyed world, or more likely a world that was partly destroyed and now under alien control. Hopefully whatever superweapon Gatlan was offering would destroy the aliens easily, and then the next major problem would be rebuilding—and burying their dead.

  Not exactly a happy ending, but Earth would endure, and Leo silently swore that never again would they be in that vulnerable position. He wasn’t so naive as to think that the aliens would have attacked them with their full fleet. However, if they returned to try again, next time Earth would be ready. Never again would they have to rely on blind luck and optimism to save them. That was something best left for the movies; in real life, it was too damn scary.

  There was one slight fly in the ointment. Prince Edmund had given them Mathis to work with, a known knight of the realm. King Oswald had not done the same, perhaps because he didn’t have a knight to spare. Instead he had granted them a seal, a gold token embossed with the Gatlan symbol, to show they were acting in his name.

  King Oswald had also sent an envoy to the front, to tell the knight commander overseeing the frontline to expect them and to give them whatever information they requested. King Oswald didn’t micromanage the battle. He got reports, but all battle strategy was decided at the front.

  Leo didn’t want to leave anything to chance. They needed to know not just Gatlan’s battle plan, but Sintiya’s as well, so that they could get into the right position in advance. That way they wouldn’t be scrambling, or caught out of position.

  Information won and lost battles. It was something Leo wasn’t willing to do without, especially given the high stakes of this mission. King Oswald wanted this battle won, and Leo was determined that he wasn’t going to be disappointed.

  They needed the reward too damn badly to let him down.

  They had gone to and from the front several times, but even with the ease of familiarity, it still took a day and a half to get there. The sun was starting to cross the sky and begin its descent when they found a good observation point above the
Sintiya base camp. They would need to know the battle plans of both sides, but starting with the ‘enemy’ was easier, as there were more options available for gaining the intelligence.

  Leo pulled his binoculars and looked down at the camp. It was a hive of activity. There were no signs of battle; clearly everyone was regrouping for the battle tomorrow. With it being so busy, that would make it harder to infiltrate, especially because the main tent was likely to be the most heavily guarded. It could be done, though; he’d faced harder targets.

  What worked in their favor were the helmets that several of the knights were wearing. It completely disguised their features. Anyone could be under the armor, making it the perfect camouflage.

  Don tapped Leo on the shoulder and pointed. “Patrol.”

  Leo looked through his binoculars. There were two knights walking down the tree line towards them. Neither were wearing helmets, but one of them had their helmet hanging from the back of their sword belt. If they kept on that line, then they would move out of line of sight of the main camp.

  “I see them,” Leo murmured.

  He shuffled back on his stomach, until he was away from the crest of the hill, before rolling over onto his back. Don and Nick crouched down in front of him. Leo bit his lip and thought. They would need to be quick if they wanted to take those knights on this patrol circuit.

  “Let’s see if we get around them, box them in front to back, pull them into the tree line. Don’t shoot them. Let’s take them silently,” Leo ordered.

  “Kill them?” Nick checked.

  Leo nodded soberly, his mouth twisted into forced warped humor. “Just try not to get blood on the armor. Although I doubt that would stand out too much down there.”

  Don laughed hollowly, his expression grim. As a group, they scrambled to their feet. They left the horses tied up where they currently were and set off in a wide arc through the forest in their usual configuration, Leo at the front and Don watching their backs.