The Melaki Chronicle Volume II

by William Thrash

  “Necromancy?”

  “Is evil.”

  “Spirit magic?” Melaki's heart raced. Everything he had thought, hoped, and dreamed – his very essence of who he was rested on this question.

  He thought the figure paused, but he really did not. Time seemed to slow for Melaki as he almost hyperventilated in excitement. So many years, wondering. So many years, fighting what he thought was evil. Had he been right? Had he been wrong? So many people – almost all – had told him he was wrong. Giant magic – the use of one's own inherent power – was wrong and bad and evil. So he had been told. So he had been raised. So he had been instructed.

  The figure opened its mouth. “Is evil.”

  A trepidation filled Melaki, crowding out the jubilation. “And my magic...?” His heart wanted to stop. His hearing became fuzzy. The blood pounded in his head, fearful, afraid, coursing through his veins with a sluggish dread.

  “The use of your abilities with which the Almighty has blessed you have found favor in His sight.”

  Melaki found himself on his knees, sobbing, smiling, and then finally burying his head in his hands. For so long he had struggled, wondering, knowing but still worrying, fretting over his use of magic.

  His entire life had just been vindicated. “But why--” He stopped.

  The figure was gone.

  Melaki then did something he had never done. He beseeched God. “Almighty God, guide me so that I may continue to find favor in your sight.”

  “Melaki?” The voice came from everywhere and it was familiar.

  He drifted, comfortable. Moving. He wasn't sure where. He wanted to keep crying in joy, in relief, and with the satisfaction of triumph.

  You must accompany Adaris.

  “Melaki?” Galli's voice. “Master?”

  Eliam said, “Here, I know an old trick that always works.”

  A sharp slap across his face woke Melaki from whatever he had been experiencing.

  Galli grabbed Eliam's wrist. “I did not know you would strike--”

  “Look, it worked.”

  Melaki groaned, sensation rushing back into his body as if the blood rushed back in with a tingling ferocity. “Eh?”

  “You fell,” Galli said. “Vision?”

  Melaki looked all around. Guards were nearby, looking. His friends faces were over him. Then a smile lit his face.

  Eliam grumbled. “I think he needs to be slapped again.”

  “You will not,” said Galli.

  “Is he alright?” said Adaris.

  Had it been just a dream? But he knew it was not. The moon and the lights said what he had seen was no dream. How could one dream about something of which he had never seen the likes?

  “Preposterous,” he said. He felt groggy.

  Galli said, “Yes, he's definitely alright.”

  They helped him to his feet.

  There was a rushing of booted feet. He felt Eliam tense. Swords rang and shields snapped into place. The Callacan Royal Palace Guard surrounded them.

  Galli sighed. “Oh, how wonderful. This day just gets better and better.”

  “Come with us,” said a black-leathered subcommander.

  Melaki blinked and looked at his friends. They offered nothing but stunned looks.

  They followed the subcommander, ringed by guards, whose swords were still out and held at the ready.

  Through the halls, they were escorted shortly to the throne room. But they did not go to be announced or met by the king on his throne. Instead, the king was forefront in the entry, far from his throne.

  Another guard captain stood beside him, black leather and white blouse shot through with red. “Adaris Radek of Tartessan.”

  He saw Adaris swallow.

  “I am,” said Adaris.

  The king stepped forward. It was a deliberate step, full of intent and domination. His face formed a sneer of disgust. “You are ordered exterminated.”

  Adaris gaped, open-mouthed. Then his entire countenance crumpled. From around the king came a diminutive woman dressed in brown leathers.

  Melaki watched water form at the man's eyes. He said nothing, knowing nothing of his situation.

  “Elleri,” said Adaris. His voice was broken.

  Melaki looked between the woman and his new friend. There was pain in Adaris' eyes. There was a look of determination in hers.

  The king, Dosdaran, ignored it all. “I received today a message saying you must be terminated at all costs.”

  “I...” said Adaris. “I... I have no defense.” He hung his head.

  Melaki lifted his chin. “You have seen fit to take away from me my business and livelihood. You will not deprive me my friend.”

  The woman whispered into Dosdaran's ear.

  “Melaki? Atlantean Wizard of the Ninth Rank?”

  “I am,” he said. He was surprised whatever the king's source that they knew he was only of the ninth rank. Small consolation considering the swords still pointing at them.

  The king gazed deeply into his eyes. “I do not intend to, wizard. I have received this day a message from Oolan that Adaris must be killed.”

  “Surely--” Melaki said.

  The king interrupted him. “I know for what reason – and I can not accept such. Elleri and my information network suggests that Adaris acted in my interests. What kind of a ruler would I be to execute him?”

  Elleri nodded.

  Adaris looked even sadder.

  Melaki looked sideways at the king. “You knew what he was about?”

  “About?” The king's eyebrows rose. “I knew that he came to persuade me – to convince me that war against the Vattonses was viable and immediately promising. My intelligence network knew he was coming before he stepped foot in this country.”

  The spy just shook his head, shoulders slumped.

  The king continued. “I assume Oolan had orders for the courier to deliver the execution order to me if Adaris did not deliver his proof-scroll to the courier. What is this about your business?”

  Melaki frowned, irritated. “Your guard captain did not like me handling a few assassins. He--”

  The king nodded. “He has the purview--”

  “He is an ass.”

  Dosdaran frowned, anger across his features. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced in front of Melaki. “It is the law, made by my predecessors. It works well. However, whatever the guard captain says, you are in the company of a known spy, a saboteur, and one who is now under orders by my ally for execution.”

  “We--”

  “I can not allow you to remain in the capital and neither can I allow Adaris to remain in my kingdom. As associates, you are hereby ordered to leave my kingdom and not return. I am especially disappointed in you, Eliam.”

  The white-haired soldier glared. “I can not find the energy to care about what you think.”

  “Ah, yes, the promise broken.”

  “You can shove your promises up--”

  Galli coughed.

  “Banished, all of you, immediately,” Dosdaran said.

  Melaki was angry. And he wanted to be angrier. But here was his excuse for his own form of running – of getting away from Tarep's mindless assassins. No longer having a reason to consider and delay, he was being forcibly ejected from a kingdom he had called home, if but for a short time.

  He pursed his lips and nodded his head.

  Dosdaran saw it and stopped pacing. An eyebrow rose and he nodded as if surprised to learn something he had hoped for but not expected had come to pass. “Put up your swords.”

  Soldiers snapped to attention and weapons were sheathed.

  The king looked at all of them. “Come with me.” He turned and walked away without waiting.

  The group moved together, following, until they were led into the council room.

  Melaki gazed at the mural map on the large table with wonder. Markers were everywhere.

  Dosdaran snatched up a pointer and began deftly indicating spots on the map. “Our
sources place the main Asturjani attack along these hills. We also know there have been deep raids--”

  “I can attest to that,” Melaki said.

  “Indeed,” said Dosdaran. He glanced at Elleri. “I have been told.”

  Adaris was still gazing at her, trembling. She avoided his gaze.

  The king tapped the map. “The area is easily defended. I propose to remain static this year.”

  “Static?” Eliam said.

  “Yes, subcommander, static.”

  “We have always had an active defense, sometimes reclaiming that which was lost.”

  “I do not need to be reminded; I am well aware of the situation.”

  “Why static?” said Melaki.

  Dosdaran pointed to the Vattonses border. No troops were there – on either side. “This has never happened. Attacking Vattonses is unthinkable. We would need our entire army and probably still lose. And that would assume a peaceful border with Asturjani.”

  Adaris looked away from Elleri, drawn by what was being said. “My sources said Lagash has drawn all forces northeast for a decisive push against the Euskaldani.”

  Dosdaran nodded. “As my sources, too. But even more interesting is that he has left nothing. Not even a skeleton force.”

  Adaris shook his head ruefully. “The perfect time to strike.”

  Dosdaran tapped the border. “Indeed. Despite your emperor's bad plan.”

  Melaki frowned. “Why are you showing us this?”

  The king looked at Adaris. “I can provide a Royal Callacan Company and a troop of archers.”

  Eliam raised his eyebrows. “So that is why you are going static this year.”

  “Indeed.”

  Adaris was looking wide-eyed at Dosdaran. “You intend to strike?”

  The king dropped the pointer and stepped up to Adaris. He clasped his hands behind his back and frowned down at the spy. “No. I intend to reinforce your strike.”

  “My strike? I can not battle the entire Vattonses Empire on my own.”

  “There is not a single force standing in between our border and their capital.”

  “A palace strike?” Adaris looked dumbfounded, but suddenly interested.

  “Precisely. I send the troops with you to make sure you can make it to the palace. It is a gamble, but this may be our only chance. They may never leave a border undefended again.”

  Melaki nodded, thinking.

  You must accompany Adaris.

  He knew then, what he had been called to do. He knew the message, the direction and why he had lost his business. He was to help remove a demon-in-flesh ruling over the Vattonses. “That will plunge the Vattonses Empire into chaos.”

  “It might. If there are any royals left, the country could become secure, though I despise the Vattonses Royal Family. They have warred with us for hundreds of years.”

  Adaris said, “Stopped only because there was a greater threat from the Atlantean colony at Vascon – the Euskaldani.”

  Dosdaran nodded. “I suggest you talk to Tolos.”

  Eliam shook his head. “Is there anything you do not know about us?”

  “Most likely not. Tolos knows a few veterans that might like to go along. There are not very many, but the more help you have, the better.”

  Adaris was shaking his head. “I can not defeat a demon.”

  Melaki touched his arm. “You will not face him alone. We will be there with you.”

  “We will?” said Galli. He blinked as if trying to see something he did not believe.

  “Where else are we to go? Tartessan? We are banished from this country--”

  Dosdaran said, “Only to maintain relations with Tartessan. I can not allow you to remain no matter how right Adaris' actions were.”

  Galli nodded, seeing. “So that leaves trying to relocate to Asturjani or Vattonses.”

  Eliam grumbled. “The Asturjani do not even accept merchants.”

  Melaki said, “So that leaves Vattonses and beyond. We are going that way anyway, Galli.”

  “Yes, I see it.”

  Dosdaran gave a ghost of a smile. “May the gods favor your venture. I will have horses and carts with provision for the journey by the end of the day. I expect you to be moving out of the capital in the morning.”

  “Banished.” Melaki frowned.

  “Banished. I will, however, direct the treasury to pay full price for your business.”

  Galli gulped. “That is very generous of you--”

  “I know,” said Dosdaran. “Though it might give my guard captain cramps when he finds out.”

  Melaki wanted to laugh, but he felt the pull, the call, the direction and it was magnetic.

  How do I kill a demon?

  CHAPTER 11

  Eliam bulled his way through people on the street. He had wanted to strangle Dosdaran.

  Bastard.

  The king had even rubbed it in his face about the broken promise. He felt betrayed, his loyalty and service spurned. A hundred years in service to the Kingdom of Callacan. He had been used and then discarded.

  He entered the inn where Tolos worked. Not seeing his friend, he thrust his chin at the barkeep. The man was busy cleaning and arranging. “Tolos?”

  The man pointed. “Back there, up the stairs and the first door on your right.”

  “My thanks to you.” Eliam went down the service hall.

  The man grunted in response.

  The hall was cramped and the door at the top sturdy, but old. He knocked.

  A grumble from inside sounded like permission.

  Eliam opened the door and stepped in. He shut the door behind him. Tolos lay wrapped in his blankets on a small bed. He looked up at Eliam bleary-eyed.

  “Too early for drinking,” said Tolos.

  “I am not here to drink.”

  Tolos had shut his eyes, but opened one of them back up. “What for then?”

  “I am banished.”

  “This is not a good time for jokes--”

  Eliam collapsed onto a stool. “No joking.”

  Tolos struggled up and leaned on an elbow. “Eh? What is this then?”

  “Banished. Keeping suspicious friends, I suppose.”

  “So you come to me?” Tolos looked over at his tiny window. “Great. I shall be banished by your stain.”

  “There is more.”

  “Oh? What could be worse than being banished?”

  “We go to kill the Vattonses demon.”

  Tolos belted out a good laugh. “Now you must be joking.”

  “I am not,” he said a little hotly.

  The laughter died. “What are you not telling me?”

  “Dosdaran uncovered a spy – the man that sat with us that night we first saw you. The spy was supposed to foment a Callacan move against Vattonses so the Tartessans could move more strongly against Tordetani.”

  Tolos grunted and rubbed his face. He swung his legs out of bed and grabbed his water mug.

  Eliam continued. “But events have pulled all of the Vattonses troops northward, toward Euskaldani.”

  “They left their border undefended?”

  “Not just undefended as in a skeleton force or two, but completely devoid of troops.”

  Tolos frowned, shaking his head. “Insanity. But we do not have the troops to conquer--”

  “Dosdaran wants to support Adaris and the rest of us with a direct strike against the palace.”

  Tolos nodded, understanding. “Ah, I see. He does not purpose war, but striking the head from the beast.”

  “Correct. Lagash needs to be destroyed.” Eliam adjusted his sword belt. “The king also suggested I talk to you about assembling some veterans.”

  Tolos drank from his mug. “A worthy endeavor. Very worthy.”

  “We leave on the morrow.”

  His friend blinked. “I can not assemble so fast, but I wager there are a good dozen men I could call for who would come.”

  “A dozen is better than none. Are you sure you--”

&nb
sp; Tolos set down his mug forcefully. “I would not miss out on the chance to be sung about for generations as one of the ones who finally brought down the Vattonses.”

  “The demon.”

  His friend waved him off. “And the Vattonses.”

  Eliam rose. “Good then, it will be a comfort to know we are backed by the Callacan finest. Ride when you can; we will be on the Trade Road.” The Trade Road was the major road between Callacan and Vattonses. Trade had long been abandoned between the two countries. It now served to move troops.

  Tolos rubbed his face again, thinking. “Yes. Well, much to do. Off with you so I can be about making my contacts.”

  * * *

  Melaki watched Galli load his small chest of spellbook and materials into the cart.

  They had not been here long, in the capital. Where would they go after they struck down the demon? Would the Vattonses people accept an Altanlean wizard living amongst them? They would consider him a spy for the Euskaldani. He needed to follow Adaris, but what of the aftermath of their mission?

  Farther east? Into the lands of the Meseditt Empire? Back home? How far would he have to run to outdistance Tarep's reach? Would he ever be able to stop running? Would he ever be able to settle in one spot in peace?

  Tila nudged him.

  Sala bared her teeth at the horse.

  He brought his hand up under Tila's jaw and hugged her head. Then he stroked her nose.

  “Eliam,” he said.

  The veteran grunted.

  “Ride with the Callacan troops. Tell them we are coming now.”

  “I shall.”

  “Any word on the other veterans?”

  “No, I only spoke to him yesterday. I am sure it takes time to gather them.”

  “Well, then, they will catch up.” Melaki mounted Tila and sat tall in the saddle.

  Riding away from the business, Melaki saw the guard captain leaning against a wall, watching. He was tempted to cause a malady to the man's groin, but decided the usage would be petty. Instead he sighed at the man and rode past.

  Out the main gate of the city were a dozen wagons and well over a hundred men on horses. Some were sword-wielders, some were archers. All were in the brown leathers of the Callacan Royal Army and showing the billowing white sleeves of their station. Only one wore the black leathers of a subcommander. But his white shirt was striped with red.