The woman continued to stir the kettle’s contents. “Not sure I’ve seen a neighbor as long as I’ve lived here.”
“And how long is that?” he said.
“Long. Days and months and years don’t mean much to someone like me. Not the way it does to people like you, I imagine.” She lifted the spoon to her face and sniffed the concoction with relish. “Ah…it’s just about ready. Can I interest you and your knights in a bowl of soup, your highness?”
The mocking tone of voice wasn’t masked, but over-annunciated intentionally.
“As generous an offer as that most certainly is, we will decline,” King Hermon said, knowing he’d rather gut a goat and eat the innards raw than let a spoonful of whatever she cooked pass his lips.
His knights didn’t know him well. Not the way they’d known his father. King Elroy had often traveled his realm with the men. He had yet to form any such bonds. They’d known him from the time before he became king, but that was under different circumstances. It was important visiting the lands he ruled, but this expedition was more about building loyalty, and trust. They’d been away from the castle for nearly seven days. Uneventful night after uneventful night. He needed a way to gain the respect of the men he commanded. Since they’d be starting back in the morning, he could think of only one thing that might accomplish his goal.
“I’ll ask one last time,” King Hermon said. The woman thought she was clever. Her use of words might have been missed by the others, but was not lost on him. “Do you know of anyone using magic around here?”
She lowered the spoon into the broth, lifted the bellows, and fanned the fire. “I will be sure to alert your highness if I learn of anyone practicing witchcraft, or magic in these parts. Person like that can be dangerous.”
“Yes, they can.” Flames rose licking the bottom of the kettle. Smoke billowed around the sides and into the king’s face. He ignored the smoke, and allowed the sting to burn his eyeballs. “And how would you notify my kingdom of something as malevolent as magic?”
“I’d come and tell you myself, I would,” she said.
The lie fell comfortably off her tongue. “Enjoy your meal,” the king said.
On the edge of the valley, just inside the borders of the Osiris Realm, King Hermon addressed his knights. They sat on rocks, or rested on the cold hard ground, but close enough for the heat from the fire pit to reach them. “We’re going back,” he said.
A few of the men looked up at them. He didn’t have their attention. He knelt by the fire, stabbed at the coals with a stick. The flames crackled, and the glowing embers rolled popped. They’d caught and cooked rabbit, squirrel, and snake over the fire. One carcass remained on a spit beside the fire. “She is a witch,” he said. He always wondered how much his father talked, worried what the men suspected. “We’re going back.”
“Back, your highness?”
“The woman hadn’t been cooking soup,” the king explained. “Nothing edible could smell so foul. It was a potion. People live in and around the valley. Everything she said was either a lie or misleading.”
“We’re bringing her back as a prisoner?”
“And burning the place to the ground.” He wanted her as his prisoner, not stashed in the dungeons, or burned at a stake. Something about her intrigued him. There was a connection he couldn’t explain; a sensation he felt in his bones that tingled and demanded further examination.
A new life entered his men. Some fun. They longed for it. He’d sensed it. The smiles told him he’d made the right call. He knew some of them also wanted a brawl, or an excuse to drive steel through someone, but he wanted the sorcerer unharmed.
For now.
King Hermon led them back the way they’d come. The woman’s hut sat at the very bottom of the valley, sandwiched between mountain ranges. There were legends behind the land’s name (as there were for most). Flaming Crystal. If he’d ever been told the tale, he did not recall it.
Smoke rose from the mouth of her stone chimney. “We will get her out of the hut, and secured, and then do with the place whatever you wish.”
“And if we find gold, or silver?”
King Hermon shrugged. They were beyond the realm. She had made it clear that she knew the distinction and chose to live alone, unprotected in the bottom of a valley. “Keep anything of value you find.”
At his command, they charged the hut, swords bared. King Hermon stopped at the pit where the flame had been allowed to die and kicked over the kettle and makeshift stand. The men trampled the garden, hacked at vines and weeds alike.
A blue ring of fire encircled them. King Hermon spun around. The woman stepped through the flames, untouched. “I will admit there was a time I practiced magic. But once I mastered it, there was little need for practicing. However, the desire to use powers I’d been forced to keep hidden only grew and grew with each passing day. I was hoping all of you would return,” she said. She wore a dark cloak. The hood was over her head. Her voice boomed above the roar of flames like a preacher atop a mountain. Her words echoed continually around them, as if rebounding off of the wall of brilliant blue fire. The reverberation was maddening.
Men covered their ears as they fell to their knees. Blood oozed from their noses, leaked from their eyes.
“Stop this!” King Hermon said. “I command you to stop this now!”
“You have no authority over me, boy. You haven’t the power, or the courage, or the ability to stop me.”
“I don’t want to stop you,” King Hermon said.
That clearly caught her off guard. Raised arms lowered.
“I want you to come back to Osiris.”
His knights were flat on the ground. Some kicked, writhing as if a hive of wasps lived inside their armor. The screaming made him think they were being stung, flesh swelling. He wasn’t sure why these thoughts filled his mind.
Was it because she made them believe that was what was happening to them?
“I want you to explain yourself,” she said.
“My men.”
There was a moment where nothing happened, then the wall of fire faded away. The men stopped screaming. They became still. King Hermon wasn’t sure if any knight was still alive, until they stirred. He sighed, relieved.
“Now explain.”
He said, “There is no reason for you to hide in this valley.”
“Hide?”
He ignored the interruption. “Come back and live in the palace. My castle.”
“You’re a king? I always imagined King Elroy a bit bigger. Older.” There was a twist to her lips, and her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down.
“King Hermon Cordillera,” he said, chest out, puffed with pride.
She let him watch as she rolled her eyes. “And why would I do that?”
“Because I believe wizards have a place,” he said; serve a purpose, he thought. “You cannot be the only one left. I want to gather as many of your kind into my service as I can.”
She remained motionless. It was dark but he saw her clearly enough, mixed with shadows, and blend of the nothing of night that surrounded her.
She laughed. It came out in a loud blurted burst, and was over. “There have been laws against magic since Henry Rye ruled the empire. Even after his fall, the kings on both sides of the sea upheld the decrees. I don’t know what kind of fool you take me for. I’m in no hurry to get hung, or to have my head severed from the rest of my body. Thank you, but I’ll pass.”
“I am not imprisoned by narrow minded discrimination. I am a new king, a ruler uninhibited by prejudices instilled by the kings of yesterday,” he said. All of it true. “If you come with me, I will allow ensure that you have the implements you require to grow as a wizard.”
“You will?” The suspicious tone of voice was sharp like the edge of a razor. She made no attempt to hide it.
The cabin’s door banged opened, pulling the king out of his memory.
“King Hermon, we’ve got company?”
&nbs
p; “Captain?”
“A Voyagers’ ship, it’s headed this way!”
Chapter 23
Mykal held the mirror up so everyone could see it. The sense of pride he felt was greatly shadowed by the nightmares he knew he’d suffer. Never had he been surrounded by so many spiders. It didn’t matter that he’d overcome his fear and retrieved the relic. “It wasn’t easy to get, but I have it.”
Anthony shook his head, but kept his mouth shut.
Mykal eyed his uncle, but Quill also remained silent.
“I don’t want you to panic,” Blodwyn said. he rearranged his hands on the staff, and lifted it up like a club.
Mykal’s breath caught in his lungs. Telling someone you didn’t want them to panic meant something was terribly wrong. It left few options, but to panic. Seeing Blodwyn ready to swing at his head with the staff didn’t help cut the tension, either.
Galatia raised her hands, and aimed them like arrows at Mykal. All he could imagine was fire spitting from her fingertips and cooking him like a carp on her open flames. His throat went dry, and he strained to swallow.
Anthony took steps backwards, pulling on Quill’s cloak.
Mykal didn’t need an explanation. He immediately knew what had happened. For confirmation he no longer required, he saw in his peripheral vision an arachnid perched on his shoulder. The pedipalps and front two legs wiggled and stretched to brush against his cheek. Rows of eyes glared at him, as if angry he’d taken the creature from the dark, dank cavern it had made its home. In natural light, or as natural as it could be under the Cicade canopy, the thing was hairier, and fatter, and more vicious-looking than the horrid creatures had appeared in the glow of the orb’s reddish light. “Get it off!”
Before anyone could react he felt the fangs penetrate his skin.
Blodwyn swung his staff, managing to smack only the spider.
As it flew from his shoulder, Galatia zapped it with fire. It burst into flames before even hitting the ground.
Mykal jumped on it. The heel of his boot crushed what remained of its charred bulbous body. Its bones crunched.
His hand covered the bite mark. “I don’t feel good.”
“What do you know about these spiders?” Blodwyn asked, looking at Quill.
“They’re venomous,” Quill said. “They stay underground. Feed on grubs and night crawlers.”
“Deadly,” Anthony said. “Lance was bit by one this summer. Face swelled up like a melon. Throat closed up in minutes—”
Quill shot the Archer a look.
“Never,” Anthony said, less enthusiastically, “never seen the likes.”
Blodwyn pushed, “antivenin?”
Quill shrugged. “If there is, I am unaware of one. We’ve no cure that I know of. The spiders don’t venture to the tree tops and we don’t spend much time on the forest floor.”
Mykal tried following the conversation. Sound had become muffled, trapped inside his ears, like his head was pinned by a pillow, or those talking kept getting further and further away. Vibrant colors became dull, and in one blink turned grey. Everything looked grey, and ashen.
He coughed.
Everyone looked at him as his hands went to his throat, as he struggled to take breath. Before he could ask for help the ground met his face. A tree stump met his forehead with a solid whap. The grey became black as his eyes closed, and there was nothing but the burning sensation that coursed through his entire body. He feared the spider’s venom had set his blood on fire. Once it reached his heart he knew that he would combust.
Karyn shouted, “Roll him onto his back!”
Blodwyn and Quill moved, grabbing Mykal and flipping him over.
“Careful, boys,” Galatia said. “Please. Be careful.”
“Is there anything you can do?” Blodwyn asked, looking to Galatia.
“I can heal him,” Karyn said. “It’s why I’m here. I knew this would happen.”
Blodwyn grimaced. “You knew what would happen?”
Karyn pointed at Mykal’s head. His face was bloated. He still had his hands at his throat. He might be conscious. It was hard to tell. His eyes were swollen shut. “Can you hear me, Mykal?”
“You’ve done this before?” Galatia said.
Karyn shook her head. She knelt beside the young wizard. “Never.”
Blodwyn watched the girl lower her head against Mykal’s chest placing one hand over his face, the other to his stomach.
“What is she doing?” Anthony asked.
Galatia shushed him.
Blodwyn hadn’t noticed the noises in the forest, hadn’t been aware of the sounds, until everything stopped. No birds chirped. No insects chirruped. There was nothing. Silence surrounded the group, grasped the forest like a thing alive. It was obscure, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.
And then the hum started. It rolled at them from every direction. Blodwyn knew he wasn’t the only one hearing it. The Archers changed their stance, as if the ground trembled beneath their feet. Their arms were out, knees slightly bent.
A light, as bright and white as that coming through the narrow gap down the length of a partially-drawn curtain in a pitch black room at midday spilled from the canopy above Karyn as she lay motionless, draped across Mykal’s body.
It wasn’t possible, but felt like the forest was spinning. Blodwyn ground the butt of his staff into the ground for additional support. He held it with both hands, afraid he might lose balance. He found it odd that Galatia merely smiled, her eyes never straying off the two prone figures.
“What’s happening?” Blodwyn demanded.
“She’s calling on nature.”
“She’s what?!” he repeated.
“She’s healing him. Completely healing him.”
***
Mykal opened his eyes. Karyn sat on a rock beside him, sunlight above her head. He puckered his lips and tried swallowing.
“Are you okay?” she said.
“I’m dry.”
Quill offered him a deerskin. “Here. It’s water.”
Mykal didn’t know he was on the other side of him. “Thank you, uncle.”
Tucking a hand under his head, Quill helped Mykal into a sitting position. “Here, just a little. Don’t overdo it. You scared us there for a bit.”
Mykal needed a moment. The water was wonderful. And then he remembered the spider, and pushed himself up to his feet, slapping at phantom bugs on dancing across his body.
“You’re okay, Mykal.” Karyn had his arm in hers. “It’s okay now.”
He tried calming himself down, knowing he was just paranoid. “I’m okay?”
“You’re okay,” she said.
“She saved your life,” Quill said. Something was different about the man. He was being genuinely nice. Mykal wasn’t sure if he trusted the change. He liked it. He just wasn’t sure he trusted it. Perhaps once he understood the reason for the change, or determined what was going on, he’d have a better idea as to where he stood.
“Galatia?” Mykal said.
Karyn hmmphed.
“I’m just kidding. I remember when you told me about this.”
“About what?” Quill said.
“I dreamt that something like this would happen,” Karyn said. “I just didn’t know it would be from a spider bite.”
“That little bit of information would have been helpful. I’d have stayed home,” he said. He wouldn’t have, but he might have given the quest deeper consideration.
“You did it though,” Karyn said.
“Did what?”
“The mirror. You found it.”
“Where’s Galatia?”
“Getting ready to ride,” Quill said. “I’m coming with you.”
“Ride? Has she summoned Pendora? Is the other wizard here?”
“She hasn’t.” Quill held onto Mykal’s shoulders. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes. She hasn’t used the mirror to call Pendora.”
“No. Not that. I said, ‘I’m coming w
ith you.’”
Mykal shrugged out of the hold. “I heard you. Why would you want to come with us? It was only a few hours ago that you were ready to have us be pierced with arrows.”
“While you’ve been napping, I’ve been talking with Galatia and Blodwyn. The Mountain King needs to be stopped. I am convinced we’re all in danger. This forest has been my home for almost as long as I can remember. I love those people up there. There’s a responsibility I accepted when they put me in charge. Keeping everyone safe is up to me. I want to be part of the force set on stopping a potential threat,” he said.
The words were perfect, as if he had practiced to perfection every syllable before speaking. Mykal wanted his grudge to disappear. It was much easier desired than done. He thought about his mother and father. Quill knew something about them, about his past and what might have become of them. “I need to see Galatia,” he said.
Chapter 24
The Mountain King and Ida stood beside the captain of The Shadow. The sea fought the ship’s parting in vain as its bow sliced through the water. Salt and spray filled the air. The Osiris Realm was near enough should they need to retreat, which was the captain’s fervent hope.
King Hermon saw the waving flags of a Voyager ship.
“We could turn back. Head into the Fjord. We’d be safe there. The Voyagers don’t venture that close to land,” the captain said. “Normally.”
He hated the yellow which stained the man’s skin and clothing. “We shall not turn back. Ready the tars. We will stand against the Voyagers, should it be necessary. How long has it been since their battle skills have been tested? They rule by fear and legend. They may think the sea as theirs, but I’m to show them differently. No longer will the Isthmian be their haven. A new day is close at hand, captain. And no such further cowardice shall I hear from your lips again. Are we clear?”
The captain offered up a shaky nod.
Severed Empire: Wizard's Rise Page 19
