Mykal closed his eyes and bit his lip. He prayed that he’d misheard what she’d said. “Won’t the king come looking for you?”
“It is likely,” she said.
It was an honest and insightful answer, and it did absolutely nothing to eliminate Mykal’s nauseated stomach. He placed a hand to his belly in a futile attempt to calm the roiling nervousness in his gut.
“What’s to keep him from coming here?” Mykal waved an arm indicating the land behind him. “If the king suspects you were here, he may take all of this away from my family.”
“Out of the entire old empire, why would the king think that I would come here? He doesn’t even know you exist,” she said.
He suspected she was trying to reassure by expressing the anonymity of this location, and felt no hurtful or demeaning intent. He lowered his eyes. “You met me by the Isthmian mere days ago.”
“The king doesn’t know that.”
“Your escort would.”
“They’d never tell.”
“Their loyalty might be strong while you were living at the castle, but once you’ve run off and the king demands answers. . .”
Now she bit her lip. It was not a sight he wanted to see. It suggested she hadn’t thought of that until now.
“My grandfather and I work very, very hard,” he said. “This small piece of land, it’s all we have.”
“You will be leaving soon,” she said. “And I mean to join you. I suppose even if you tell me I can’t, I’ll still follow.”
“You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not going anywhere. You’ve built of me, within your imagination, something I’m not. You see a grand future that does not exist for me. You’re wrong. I don’t know how else I explain in a way that you’ll fully understand, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here.”
Karyn pulled her hood over her head. Eyes no longer illuminated, only darkness where her face had been. “You are going on a journey,” she said. “Galatia will see to that. You will be leaving soon. Like it or not, I’m coming with you.
“We are connected. You need me, Mykal.” Her voice trembled, again on the verge of tears.
She rose on tip-toes to kiss his cheek. He touched his still warm, damp skin, which tingled where her mouth had been, and wondered how he felt about having been kissed.
Chapter 10
Mykal wasn’t surprised to see everyone awake and around the kitchen table when he opened the door. Blodwyn leaned back in a chair, balancing using the two back legs, and his staff. Grandfather sat with elbows on the table, fingers laced together in front of his face. The center-piece candle reflected from the sweat spotting his bald head. Galatia was the only one standing, still wrapped in Mykal’s cloak. She leaned back against the counter, arms folded beneath her full chest.
“Everyone,” Mykal said, acutely aware that all eyes were on him. He stepped aside. “This is Karyn. She is a ward of the king. She was one the princesses of Evidanus.”
“Your father was King Aslom,” Blodwyn said.
“That’s right,” she said. “Did you know of him?”
“I knew him, actually. When he was young; when he was just a prince.” Blodwyn’s eyes locked on Mykal’s for a brief moment, before they fell away and looked at the ground. There was something in the look that sent a shiver through Mykal. At some point, he’d ask questions about his friend’s relationship with Karyn’s father.
Grandfather lowered his hands. His eyes looked like they were about to leap out of the sockets. “She’s a what!?”
Blodwyn pushed his chair forward. “Come in, your Highness.”
“Just Karyn, please.” She didn’t appear the least bit uncomfortable wearing only a nightgown while standing in the entrance of a livestock farmer’s meager dwelling.
Grandfather ran a folded linen over the top of his head, before bowing it slightly. “Your highness,” he said. His cheeks were flush. “Forgive my outburst.”
Mykal could not recall ever seeing his grandfather so unnerved. If able, he would have gladly provided answers, or a comforting word. Unfortunately, Mykal was equally flustered.
It suddenly didn’t seem so likely that Karyn and Galatia were working together on some elaborate scam. Even if they were, Blodwyn would expose them. He did not consider himself gullible, but after hearing Karyn’s story, and Galatia’s claim that he was a wizard, he wasn’t sure what to believe.
Grandfather also looked scared. This was another emotion Mykal had not witnessed before. Grandfather knew war. He’d served his king, and paid for his loyalty with one of his legs. The old man never talked about the war. Growing up Mykal asked for stories, but Grandfather never complied.
That wasn’t exactly true. He told Mykal stories, just not tales about the war. Mykal wanted to know how he lost his leg. As he got older, became a man, Mykal stopped asking. While he might never know the truth behind the loss, he knew it was painful enough for Grandfather not to want to share details.
Galatia eyed Karyn. It was like she was trying to figure something out about the young girl. The look made him uneasy. He didn’t know what exactly was going on. Ultimately, Mykal would protect his grandfather and Blodwyn to the death should danger present itself. The energy in the room was charged.
“We should make some tea,” Mykal said. “There is a lot we need to discuss.”
Galatia moved away from the counter, her arms dropped to her side. “Karyn Evidanus,” she said. Walking around the back of the table, behind Grandfather, Galatia stopped. “I knew your great-grandfather. He was a kind man, and was loved by his people.”
“You knew my great-grandfather?” At least ten years and seven, the king’s ward appeared suddenly much younger. Her eyes opened wide, eyebrows arched, and her smile grew bigger. Combined with the way she leaned forward, it was obvious how eager she was to hear more about her family. There was no denying the lost princess missed home.
Galatia nodded, smiling warmly. “And you, your Highness, you are special, aren’t you?”
“I’ve dreamt of you,” Karyn said. “Just as I’ve dreamt of Mykal.”
Blodwyn looked at Mykal, brows scrunched together above his eyes, silently asking; What does that mean?
“This is the young lady I met on the beach, Wyn,” Mykal said, the idea of making tea forgotten. He wouldn’t need the caffeine. There was no way he’d fall asleep again tonight.
“Two mysterious ladies showing up around the same time,” Blodwyn said, as if talking to himself. “I believe young Mykal is correct. We need someone to start at the beginning. There is something at work here. I feel it in my bones.”
“It’s what I’ve been telling you. A war is coming,” Galatia said tucking her hands into the arms of the cloak.
Blodwyn’s eyes narrowed. He ground his teeth together. “Forgive me for saying, Galatia, but you’ve not told us a thing, only eluded and inferred.”
“I’ve revealed that I am a wizard,” she said. “That Mykal is also a wizard. I was clear that sinister plans are in the works. Death, famine, and worse are about to erupt across the entire old empire. There is perhaps one chance to thwart the coming evil. One. Even then, I can’t be sure. We need to undertake a journey. Mykal and I. It is the only option any of us has.”
Mykal looked at Karyn. She was staring at him. He saw it in her eyes. They said, See, I told you are going on a journey.
“You look no more than, dare I say, thirty years and five? Six?”
“What of it?” Galatia neither denied, nor conceded to Blodwyn’s guess at her age.
“I just heard you tell the princess that you knew her great-grandfather.” He stood up. He held the staff loosely. Mykal knew from his training that it was in preparation. The loose grip gave Blodwyn more freedom to twirl and swing the staff, should it be necessary.
Silence fell over them. Only Galatia’s eyes moved, as if taking in the facial expressions of everyone in the room, processing them, and considering what to say next. “My story is too long to tell before mo
rning. By noon, Mykal and I must be on our way. By all rights we should have left days ago. I did not foresee the delay—”
“I did.” Karyn’s voice was like a sudden church bell gonging.
Galatia smiled. “Yes, I imagine you did.”
“Mykal’s isn’t going anywhere with you,” Grandfather said.
Galatia’s lips pressed tightly together, going from full, to flat like two lines drawn one over the other. “Mykal?”
Suddenly on the spot, Mykal grinned. “Galatia, thank you. I appreciate you treating me like a man, asking for my opinion. In that, my dear friend Wyn has a lot to learn.”
“Mykal!” Grandfather said.
“Sorry, sir. I was kidding.”
“Now is not the time.” Blodwyn had not moved. He was ready, though. For what, Mykal wasn’t sure.
“My apologies,” Mykal said. “Galatia, I cannot pack up and go with you this morning. I have no idea who you are. I don’t have any clue what’s going on. And as much as I believe that you believe I’m a wizard, that’s where I’m going to have to disagree with you. It’s also why I am saying no. No, I will not be going anywhere with you.”
“You’re a wizard. That’s why,” Karyn said. She sounded excited. Her mouth hung open in surprise. It was as if she’d had an epiphany.
Mykal focused on Galatia. He was worried. He had never seen Blodwyn fight, not for real. The inside of the house was tight, cramped, with five people there was hardly room to breathe. Part of him wanted the tension broken. Offering them tea a second time seemed pointless. He wasn’t sure why calming everyone down was his responsibility.
Thankfully, Galatia spoke up. “King Grandeer was ten years old when he took to the throne, when there was still an empire,” she said. “His mother truly ruled. There was no denying that. No one complained, at first. The boy was simply too young. When Grandeer was ten years and three, he became more involved as king. I suspected it was still the dowager queen that reigned behind the scenes. I don’t think I was alone thinking that, nor do I think my perceptions incorrect.”
Mykal knew from history that two hundred and six years ago Grandeer had been crowned king. His math skills had never been very good. Regardless, the woman standing near him did not appear anywhere near two centuries old. Thirty and six, as Blodwyn suggested, maybe. Two hundred and six was highly unlikely, however, who really knew what wizards were capable of? She was still talking, though. He would not interrupt her. Blodwyn gripped his staff more tightly, showing a slight relaxation in his readiness to do violence.
“The dowager queen threw a ball in honor of the king’s birthday. The king spent the evening dancing with princesses from each of the other kingdoms. You should have seen the days before the ball. The princesses entered the Grey Ashland realm in caravans led by warriors; heralded with trumpets. They rode stallions or saddled camels. Coats of arms displayed on banners hung from the trumpets that waved like flags, or were embossed on shields. It was amazing seeing all the different sigils, and colors, and people. One young princess was preceded by a parade of elephants, and giraffes. Each new arrival outshined the last, it seemed. It was not a spectacle I grew tired of watching. I was younger then, though, and impressionable,” Galatia said.
Two hundred years younger, Mykal thought, but didn’t say.
“Grandeer married a lovely princess when he was ten years and six. She was not from this or even bordering kingdoms. In fact, she wasn’t from the empire at all. She hailed from the north, a small realm beyond the Zenith Mountains.” Galatia fell silent. The expression of wonder was evident on her face. She seemed lost in the recollection.
Mykal made eye contact with Blodwyn, who only shrugged at him before returning his gaze to the stunning woman.
“Wizards had a place in society, in those days. Our own special place. For the most part, there weren’t today’s overwhelming prejudices towards and fears of magic. Though there will always be those who take ignorant and intolerant stance against anything they don’t understand, or cannot explain, or don’t possess themselves.”
Galatia behaved like a normal person, Mykal thought. Although their interaction had been limited, he had not looked at her as simply a woman. It wasn’t until she started talking, and explaining, that he saw her. The woman. Before, he had just seen the possible wizard, the extraordinary beauty with her green hair. If he was honest, she had scared him. She still did, somewhat. She had yet to do a single thing that even resembled magic in his presence, and yet the idea that she could kind of freaked him out. Did that make him guilty of the ignorance of those small-minded individuals just mentioned?
“We were not equal to blacksmiths and ironsmiths, mind you, but you could walk through the villages and see a wizard’s shingle hung, pronouncing we also were open for business. But that was then. That was then.”
“What changed?” Karyn said.
“Wait. Wait, I’ll be back!” Mykal ran out of the house, and toward the barn. The night was nearly over. The black sky became dark blue, and soft blue along the eastern horizon. Morning was on the way. In the barn was their small woodshop. It was where Mykal had crafted the chair with wheels for his grandfather. He picked up two chairs he’d recently made. While the bark was whittled away, and the wood sanded smooth, he had yet to apply lacquer. He carried them back to the house and set one next to Karyn. “Sit,” he said.
The other he offered to Galatia. She shook her head. “I’ll stand for now.”
Blodwyn sat back down, as there were now chairs for everyone and any potential threat had been apparently dismissed.
After a moment, Mykal moved the chair he’d brought for Galatia away from the table and sat down, too. With everyone sitting close, he couldn’t comfortably fit between them. He could, but if he tried, he’d squirm. Tight places made him uneasy. He found it difficult to breathe normally when confined. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Please. Continue.”
“What was I saying?” Galatia said.
“You said that wizards had their place. That that was then. And then everything changed,” Karyn said.
“Yes,” Galatia said. She hadn’t moved, her hands still tucked within the sleeves of Mykal’s cloak. “You see, not long after the birth of their third son, the Queen and her newest child fell ill. When the Grey Ashland curer informed the king that both would die, the king had the curer beheaded. He sent for curers from across the empire. Many responded. He wanted his wife and son diagnosed again, treated and healed. No exceptions. He was searching for a curer to give him the answer he sought.
“King Grandeer was only twenty and one, then, but his mind had gone. Perhaps it was from worry over witnessing his wife and child’s suffering? Not two years before his royal mother had passed. It could be he feared being alone. He was willing to do anything to keep his wife alive, it seemed,” Galatia said.
“So how was the king going to make sure they were healed?” Mykal said.
“He only wanted good news. Promising news.”
“I could cut off my fingers and say that I was making a fist. That wouldn’t make it true. I’d still be without fingers, wouldn’t I? When it came time to pick up a tea mug, I wouldn’t be able to. If the curer lies and says the queen and the prince are better, but they’re not. . .”
“The king didn’t want the truth,” she said.
“I understand, but if they’re still sick, or die, the truth would confront the king like a slap in the face. You can’t deny the truth simply because you don’t want to believe the truth.”
“I’ve already stated that the king was beyond reason.”
Mykal couldn’t let the train of thought go. “And the curer responsible? Did he decapitate that one as well?”
“It wasn’t a curer who agreed to give the king the answers he wanted.” Galatia closed her eyes.
“If it wasn’t a curer,” Karyn said, “then who did?”
Mykal knew the answer.
Galatia stared at Mykal.
Mykal said, “It was a wizar
d.”
Chapter 11
“The king moved his son into the chambers he shared with his queen. The two beds were side by side. At the window, the heavy red drapes remained closed at all times. Sunlight was dangerous to her and her child. It hurt their eyes and blistered their skin. It had nothing to do with the sun’s heat. It was as if the rays themselves were cursed.” Galatia walked around the table while she spoke. The others sat quietly, hanging on her every word. The rooster out back had crowed nearly an hour ago. Soon, sunlight would stream through the cabin’s eastern window. Birds chirped.
“A wizard journeyed across the Isthmian from the Osiris Realm, believing they could help the king using practiced healing magic to cure both queen and prince. Knights met the ship by the Delta Cove, to provide the young wizard a proper escort,” she said. “The king had chambers inside the castle for the wizard, but there wasn’t time for unpacking. Word spread quickly that the Grey Ashland curer was headless, as were two others who had traveled from other lands.”
“Why would the wizard risk their life? Weren’t they worried about the noose?” Karyn said.
Mykal looked over at Blodwyn. He knew his teacher was also listening intently, both weighing the truth, and as enthralled in the telling as Karyn.
Grandfather also went long periods of time without even blinking. He looked enchanted. There were a few moments where Mykal wanted to fetch a looking glass from his bedchamber and hold it under his grandfather’s nose making sure the old man was still breathing. Just before he acted on the impulse, though, Grandfather would blink.
Sunlight entered the room. The timing couldn’t have been better planned. The large, lone candle had finally burned out, its melted remains looking like the open rinds of peeled fruit. As the wax cooled and hardened it coated its iron stand and center of the table in a messy pattern resembling a starfish.
“That wizard believed they could actually help the king. This arrogance led only to death, and heartache. When the queen and the king’s son died a night after the wizard’s arrival, one would think the entire kingdom was under attack. Because the king would not accept the truth, that their illnesses were terminal, magic was blamed for the prince’s death. The king’s knights stormed into the bedchamber which housed the wizard and delivered them to the dungeon’s master deep below the keep.” Her lower lip quivered, her eyes lowered, and her steps around the table slowed.
Severed Empire: Wizard's Rise Page 8
