by Guy Antibes
Pol checked for mind-control but did not find any. A Winnower magician would not know Siggon, and now that the man mentioned it, Paki did look just like his father.
“There is an army gathered to liberate the city.”
“From who? The Winnowers have mostly left. There are fifty or a hundred in the castle. They just leave us alone, now, until they return from fighting the Emperor, if they return at all.”
“What about Grostin? He’d never leave,” Pol said.
“The King? Rumor is he is dead at the hands of the Winnow Society. Word is the King didn’t like all what the Winnowers were going to do and set up a bit of a revolution of his own. He wanted to rule North and South Salvan himself. That was a few months ago. Life became a bit easier after that, but not by much.”
“Can the army just take over the city?”
“How many do you have, a thousand men? Sure.”
Pol was not going to tell him that he had thirty times that. “The wards?”
“Wards?” the tavern keeper didn’t know anything about wards.
“Are there any magicians in the city?”
The man shook his head. “None except for those at the castle drinking dry the Royal wine cellar.”
Pol took a swig of his beer. “How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing, Prince Pol. It’s an honor and a pleasure to serve the Emperor’s stepson. How do I know? You two were always stuck to each other as if someone glued your bodies together, and you still have the same odd look to you, although I will say you’ve grown into it very well.”
“Thank you,” Pol said.
Paki rose, and the pair of them shook hands with the man and left the tavern.
“If that is Taridan light ale, I’m a Shinkyan stallion,” Paki said after they left the place.
They hustled over to their friends. “A slight change in plans. It seems the Winnowers didn’t choose to defend Borstall, and that means another wave of soldiers will assault the Imperials. Spend the next few hours wandering around the city and cleansing the minds of the citizens. Be careful removing wards. If in doubt, don’t. It may be that my brother is already dead. Paki, Fadden and I are going to the castle to find out and eradicate the vermin who now inhabit it right after I get most of the army heading west.”
Pol had a conversation with the Generals, describing what he had been told. They would prepare for travel but would wait until Pol had verified that only magicians inhabited Borstall Castle.
He let the Shinkyan women out into the streets. He planned on Ako, Nirano, and Shira staying with them. Pol knew the secret way into the castle as well as Paki. They had used the same door to escape from King Astor. On their way to the castle, everything seemed normal. They did their part removing mind-control and the few wards they encountered. Pol took notice that there were few men of fighting age on the streets.
The door had not even been locked, but then Grostin probably never knew about it. They entered the grounds of Castle Borstall and found the place quiet. Pol led them through the little orchard and through another gate into the garden where King Colvin’s ashes surrounded a statue representing his mother.
When he passed the alcove, he saw his mother’s statue smashed into pieces around the plinth that used to hold it. Weeds grew through the shards. Grostin must have destroyed his mother’s image as soon as he ascended the throne. He curled a fist. If Grostin had survived, Pol would make him pay.
A guard sauntered through the gardens. Pol tweaked invisibility and put him to sleep when in range.
“A ward,” Shira said.
Pol examined it. He had seen the like many times. He destroyed the ward, but not the man. They encountered a few more guards on their way to a door that led into a tower.
“Take care of the rest of the guards,” Pol said. “Shira and I are going inside the castle. Follow us when the grounds are clear. If they are controlled, put them to sleep. If they aren’t, don’t let them wake again.”
They split into three couples. Pol took Shira’s hand. “I never expected to return,” he said,”
“Never?”
“Well, I thought it highly unlikely.”
“I don’t believe you, Pol Cissert.” She put her finger to his lips and urged him on.
Pol tweaked invisibility and Shira camouflaged herself. They took care of more guards and finally peeked inside the family dining room and saw ten Winnowers, drinking and snacking, but mostly drinking. Pol put them to sleep and had to catch Shira. His tweak was too strong He woke her up, and they pulled Winnower medallions from each of the magicians.
“Restraining spell,” Pol said as he waited for Shira to nod before he woke the magician up and immediately invoked a truth tweak. “How many magicians are in Borstall and in the castle?”
“Who are you?”
“An enemy. Now, answer my question,” Pol said.
“Thirty or so reside in the castle. None wish to live among the cattle you might consider citizens.”
The magician did not have to embellish his answer, but it made Pol sick nevertheless. “What has happened to King Grostin?”
“You’ve come to rescue the King? Not much to rescue, in my opinion. He’s in the dungeons at the Royal Guardhouse or whatever it’s called.”
“And the armies?”
The man’s lips curled in a smile. “On their way to obliterate the Emperor. On their way to put our Society in charge of all Eastril.”
Shira plunged a knife into the man’s heart. “I’ve heard enough. I can kill these men in their sleep. I suggest you help me. We have twenty more after this.”
Pol had to agree. These magicians were beyond redemption. He closed off the breathing pipes of them all. They ran out of the dining room and were able to execute another group of magicians before they ran into Fadden and Ako.
“There are about ten magicians left. Be careful. I don’t think they are even shielded, but a magician is still dangerous. Shira and I are going to see if Grostin is alive in a cell in the Guard headquarters.”
Pol knew the way. He’d been to the headquarters lots of time when he trained for the Emperor’s tournament and when he began to train with Val.
No conscious guards remained, but the guards kept the entry to the dungeons secret. Pol remembered the sliding panel that he had walked through as a fourteen-year-old. Torchlight lit the way once they entered the secret passage. He turned a corner and ran into two guards. Shira froze them.
Pol woke one up and tweaked a truth spell. “Where is King Grostin’s cell?”
“Go left. It’s at the end.”
Pol put both of them back to sleep. He would return later to see if they were controlled. They approached one more guard and then they were the only free inhabitants of the cells.
Shira put her hand to her face. “It stinks down here.”
“Much worse than I recall.”
Pol looked in a cell and gasped at the sight of a dead body lying on moldy straw.
They stood in front of the cell at the end of the corridor. Pol tweaked the door open, and the fetid odor nearly knocked him over. He produced a magical light and lit up the darkness. Shira gasped.
If Grostin lived, it was by sheer will alone. The Winnowers had hacked off his arms and the bottoms of his legs. He sat in torn rags on a pile of straw. His eyes were open, unblinking, but Grostin’s chest still moved as he breathed.
Pol’s stepbrother wheezed so weakly, Pol could hardly hear him. His injuries had festered. How Grostin could stay alive was a mystery until Pol sensed the magic keeping his brother breathing and kept his heart beating. Another ward made sure Grostin maintained consciousness.
This was hideous torture.
“Who did this?” Pol said, whispering in Grostin’s ear.
“Winnowers. Grimwell. Let me go. Please let me go. I can’t even scream anymore.” Grostin had no voice, just the rushing of air through his throat.
Pol looked inside and saw infection and necrotic tissue everywhere. He was o
nly alive through wards intended to keep him alive.
“May you find peace elsewhere, brother,” Pol said as he removed the wards from Grostin’s body. A few breaths later, his brother ceased to live.
Pol staggered back. “Long Live Queen Amonna,” he whispered.
“Out,” he said to Shira, who just stood behind him, crying. Pol had to push her out the door. “Leave now. Up the stairs and out of the administration building.”
She turned and ran down the corridor to the stairs that led to the secret entrance. Pol raised his hands and lowered them sweeping green magician’s fire into the room. When everything had caught, he went through every cell, for his location sense said that the only living beings in the cells were the three guards on the floor and him.
He burned out every cell and finally burned the guards. Men who worked in this hellhole deserved to die, controlled or not. The smoke was nearly overpowering. Pol turned and ran up the stairs. Shira stood sitting at the desk.
“I was sick,” she said.
“You’ll be more than that. The fire might spread through the entire building.”
He took her hand. Pol’s stomach was not very settled, either. They both had little energy after such a horrifying experience. Paki and Nirano spotted them and hurried to their sides. “No guards. No magicians,” Paki said. “Fadden and Ako have already gone through the little gate back into the city.”
“No need to use our entrance,” Pol said. He led them through the empty grounds and opened the castle gates with his magic. A few passersby looked to see the gates flung open.
Pol tweaked his voice as loud as he could. “Borstall is free. The magicians are dead. King Grostin has died. Queen Amonna will be arriving in the morning. Prepare for her arrival. The Royal Guard headquarters is burning. You need to put out the fire.”
Shira gripped his upper arm. “We need to leave the city,” she said.
“Indeed.”
Pol led the six of them to the main Western Gate, repeating his announcement numerous times along the way. Two guards, who now had no mind-control, opened it for them.
“You aren’t Winnowers.”
“No, we are Eastrilians, interested in keeping our continent free,” Shira said as the Sisters began to join their group.
They walked into the darkness. Pol felt defeated as he walked under the gate, but that feeling transformed into fury. The Winnow Society could not be more depraved. Grostin, for all his faults, did not deserve such torture. The ward on his mind kept him awake, and that was a vicious, sadistic action no matter what culture. Pol had seen plenty.
As he crossed wards running around Borstall, he tweaked them away. Finally, he ran into a scout.
“The city is ours,” Pol said. He paused to write a message to the Generals. He ended with a request for General Axe to wake Captain Corior and Amonna.
~
“I would like to call us the fools for bringing so many troops here, but I ended Grostin’s pain,” Pol said. “He was beyond my powers to heal.”
He took Amonna’s hands in his. She hugged him with tears in her eyes.
“I know you did the right thing. Those monsters!”
Pol did not mention the destroyed statue. He was certain Grostin gave the order. The image of Grostin’s mangled body aroused tremendous pity despite it all.
“Now you are the Queen of North Salvan.” Pol turned to Captain Corior. “And at this point, I’d say you were close to being her consort.”
Corior gave Pol a grim smile. “Very close.”
“Good. We need a military man to clean up what is left of the country. I suggest you keep a thousand troops and get this country pacified. Perhaps Elder Narona and some of her entourage will agree to spend a few seasons in North Salvan.”
“I would be happy to assist. My feet and back are so tired from traveling,” the Shinkyan Elder said.
“Keep the sea blockade up for now. If any Winnowers turn and run, I still would rather they not escape.”
“I can do that,” Corior said.
Pol liked him, and the man had certainly proved his integrity and valor working with Shira. “If you run across Lord Wilbon and any of his household, feel free to execute him on the spot for treason.”
Pol turned to Shira. “I need a few hours’ sleep before we head west.”
A tent had been set up for him, and Shira stepped in with him. “Another chaste night together,” she said. “You need a soft shoulder after what you did.”
He put his arms around her, held her tightly, and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll have nightmares.
She hugged him tight, as well. “I’ll be here to keep you from hurting yourself.”
“I’m already hurt enough,” he said.
~~~
Chapter Twenty-Nine
~
I n the morning, Pol had another message exchange with Malden. Hazett was in on the conversation. He officially approved of Amonna taking the North Salvan crown.
The war had stalled for a bit. Pol surmised the Winnowers waited for the Borstall forces to arrive. They all decided they would attack from the rear. Elder Harona would make sure they got some intelligence about the size of the Borstall army from Borstall residents. She could send them the updated information via rune book.
Shira helped Amonna get ready for her entry into Borstall. Corior managed a fresh dress tunic.
“The Castle might be dangerous. We didn’t clean away the magician's bodies.”
Corior nodded. “I can take care of that. It will take some time to get the city back on its feet.”
“Less than what you might think.” Pol thought of the tavern keeper’s words that the indifferent rule of the Winnowers was a little better than Grostin’s. “All the fighting men are in the army we are about to face.” Pol looked at Amonna. “Forgive the Emperor, and forgive me as I go to fight them.”
Amonna took Pol’s hand. “You’ve already shown you are willing to save them when you can. Let as many live as possible. Your exile from North Salvan officially ends as of now.”
“Go and rule well,” Pol said, pushing her towards Captain Corior.
He watched the group leave camp. At one time, a thousand men seemed a large army. Sadly, that was not the case anymore. Pol wondered what kind of Queen his youngest Fairfield sibling would make. She had a very good companion to help her overcome North Salvan’s recently troubled past.
Are you ready? Demeron said.
“You sneaked up on me. How can I be ready when I still need to do a little grooming before we leave for the west?”
I am glad you are back, safe. I can sense a great sadness. Is that for your stepbrother?
“I suppose it’s for a lot of things,” Pol said. “We always lose some of the past when we gain the future. I’ll never run through the halls of Borstall Castle again, and I’ll not relive the terrible things I experienced there. I should be happy for that, but I’m not.”
~
The three armies Pol commanded split back into three columns as they headed west to catch the Winnowers. Amonna and Captain Corior would send supplies on a continuous basis to keep them going. Pol still traveled with the Shinkyans under General Fanira. Fadden, Ako, Paki, and Nirano joined them this time.
Pol’s wristband lit up. He pulled out his rune book and read a message from Malden.
The Winnow Society unleashed a new weapon. Soldiers carry a ward that explodes when a magnetic blade touches their protective shield. We’ve lost more soldiers than they have. Beware. If you can come up with an idea to overcome the ward, let me know. By the way, we have withdrawn and are shooting arrows with magnetic arrowheads into their midst.
Pol had an obvious answer.
“If the shields explode with any metal, use baskets filled with magnetized nails and catapult them into the army. No need to waste arrows except on those who survive,” Pol wrote.
Malden liked the idea and asked for his location, as he usually did.
That evening Malden s
aid that any metal would set off the ward. Pol gathered the Generals and officers to his location in the center column.
“The Winnowers have attempted to counteract our defeat of their protective wards using magnetic weapons. When anything disturbs the ward, they have developed a tweak that will explode. I was going to do something similar on the gates of Borstall.”
“The Imperial troops will have to retreat if the enemy advances,” General Axe said.
Biloben rubbed his chin. “Arrows will defeat that.”
Pol shook his head. “Who is going to have ten, twenty, thirty thousand arrows? I suggested using baskets to toss nails into the enemy.”
“That’s a lot of catapults,” Paki said. “I know of something even simpler, easy to make and easy to learn. Slings. Remember, we’ve got a contingent of young soldiers who are armed with them. If you don’t have nails, you can use metal coins. If your sling breaks, you can always fling coins into them. Those might even travel better than nails.”
“Little metal balls would work best,” Fadden said. “Their magicians might be able to make the balls, or a blacksmith could drop tiny globs of molten metal into water. Molds could be quickly made into a metal sphere that would travel better. The Emperor’s army will come up with something.”
“Let’s send our ideas to Malden,” Pol said. “We’ve got another week of marching before we will approach the rear army.” He yawned. It was time to find a place to sleep.
~
Pol woke in the morning and tweaked a bent sword into over one hundred balls. He found it easy to visualize pearls as he re-patterned the metal. In minutes, he found three Elders and two Sisters who could pattern metal. It took them much longer, but by the time the army had eaten and broken camp, they had a thousand balls in two buckets. The effort exhausted the Shinkyan magicians, but Pol didn’t feel any loss of strength. Now he could help Paki train more soldiers to use slings.
On the next stop, Pol tested all the magicians on their ability to throw metal balls. Half of them could move balls more than twenty paces without much of a drain. The more powerful magicians could send one nearly fifty paces if they aimed to compensate for gravity. They would not have to move them fast, just enough to contact the ward. Pol put his idea of an explosive ward to the test, and one of the Elders exploded his ward without much force behind the ball.
