The Arcane Ward (Wardens of Issalia Book 2)

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  Cassie turned to look at the wall, crouched, and leaped. Charged by a rune that left her at a fraction of her normal weight, her jump launched her up and over the three-story tall wall.

  Rooftops came into view as she cleared the wall, covered in red-tinted clay tiles. She hit one of such roofs, tumbled across it, and fell off the far side. Her momentum carried her across the street and she struck the second story window of a house, her hands pressed against it as she faced the surprised children playing in the room. Then, she fell backward, snagged her foot on a planter, and spun to land face-down on the street.

  She lay there for a moment, gathering her thoughts and thanking Issal that she had survived unharmed. When she rolled over, she found a man and a woman staring down at her.

  “Where did you come from?” the man asked.

  Cassie climbed to her feet and dusted off her breeches. “I was riding a cloud and saw the city below. It seemed interesting, so I decided to drop in for a visit.”

  The man’s mouth hung open, and he turned to the woman, who had paled.

  “What? A cloud?” he muttered as he peered up at the scattered puffy clouds overhead.

  “I must be going. I have some shopping to do before the next cloud comes by.” She waved to them and started down the street. “I don’t want to miss it. There might not be another until tomorrow, and I have an appointment to keep in Sol Polis.”

  Cass resisted the urge to smile, instead filing the confused looks into a vault. I have a story for you, she sent to Brandt.

  It better be good. I am on my way to Wharton’s office, in trouble for another escape attempt.

  Keep him busy. I’ll be back inside an hour, before my augmentation weakens.

  She had no worries. If Brandt possessed any skill, it was resourcefulness. She was good at scheming, but she considered him the master.

  The street came upon an intersection with a larger street. As the main artery through the heart of Kantar, Center Street was also the hub of city business. Accordingly, the traffic thickened with people afoot and a passing carriage. Since she was still close to the citadel, the shops that lined the street were among the finest. Cassie knew that goods sold in the lower portion of the city were less refined, but she didn’t need to visit that district. She followed Center Street past two more intersections and turned right after passing Finley’s Fine Jewels. After a trio of doors that led to second-story apartments, she found a shop to her left and an Inn to her right. Above the shop was a sign marked Andagan’s Apothecary. She approached the door and entered.

  The waiting area stood empty, as was the counter that separated her from the front portion of the shop, consisting of a desk and rows of shelving that ran from the front to the back. When nobody greeted her, she rang the bell that sat on the counter.

  “Just a moment,” an old voice called from a back room.

  A man emerged, shuffling down the center aisle with the aid of a cane, his wrist shaking with each step. The sight made her think of General Budakis, the man suffering the after effects of an assassination attempt.

  “Hello, young miss. What do I owe the pleasure?” the old man croaked.

  Cassie gave him a smile. “I’m here for something to chase away the pain of life. Something that might…open one’s senses to the sky.”

  The man frowned. “Why would a fine young lass like yourself need such an escape?”

  “Oh, the drug is not for me,” Cassie assured him. “It’s for my uncle. He is in a bad way, in pain all the time from an old back injury.”

  The man gave a slow nod. “Very well. Even if I had such a drug, it would surely be quite expensive.”

  Withdrawing her coin purse, Cassie dumped a gold piece and five silvers on the counter, watching the man’s eyes the entire time. His greed was apparent as he stared at the gold.

  “Yes. Well, that would be enough for a small jar.”

  Cassie smiled. “Perfect.”

  The man gave her a nod, turned, and hobbled off to the back room. Moments later, he reappeared with a jar in his free hand, leaning on the cane in the other as he approached the front of the store.

  “May I inquire, good sir…what happened to you? What malady leaves you using a cane this way?”

  His frown returned. “It isn’t proper manners to ask such questions.”

  Cassie smiled. “That’s fine. I’m not a proper girl.”

  A huff of displeasure came from the man. “It was a thief.”

  “A thief?”

  Grimacing, the man put the vial on the counter. “Yes, roughly twenty years ago. Stole my savings and left a scorpion behind. The critter caught me unaware. I’d be dead if I hadn’t had the antidote in store and nearby.”

  With the swipe of his free hand, the man scooped up the coins. She gave him a nod and grabbed the jar, slid it into her coin purse, and secured it to her belt.

  “Thank you, sir.” She turned and opened the door. “Have a good evening.”

  When Cassie stepped outside, she found the sun had dropped below the horizon, the sky growing darker. She hurried down the street, eager to return to the castle before someone discovered her absence.

  Up Center Street, she went, weaving through traffic and avoiding looking anyone in the eye. Before drawing too close the gate, she turned down a side street and began seeking a way up. At the fourth house – the building next door to the one whose roof she had tumbled across – she found a second story balcony. With a leap, she cleared the balcony rail and almost tumbled over the far side. She righted herself and looked down to find a startled woman across the street, standing in her doorway with a pot of water in her hands. Cassie waved to the woman, climbed up on the balcony rail, and jumped. Her leap took her to the woman’s rooftop, where she stumbled before regaining her footing. Without pause, she ran toward the citadel wall, easily twelve feet above her and twenty feet from the back of the house. A hearty leap launched her over the wall. As she sailed through the air and drifted toward the courtyard on the other side, she prayed that none of the castle guards happened to be looking in her direction.

  4

  The Game

  A grunt escaped as Brandt scrubbed away the baked-on cheese. The stuff seemed to have bonded with the pan, refusing to let go. After a rinse of hot water and another round of diligent scrubbing, accompanied by yet another rinse, he examined the pot and decided it was clean. He placed it on the drying rack and wiped his hands with a towel.

  When Brandt emerged from the scullery and into the kitchen, he found Sally and Vernes, the head cook, in quiet discussion. The room was otherwise empty.

  “All finished, Grandma,” Brandt announced as Sally turned toward at him. “This is my last day, so Bemini needs to return to work tomorrow evening.”

  “Very well, dear,” Sally smirked. “While I would hope that a month of washing the dinnerware might teach you a lesson, you seem to spend almost as many evenings in the scullery as she does.”

  Brandt shrugged. “It’s not so bad. Washing can be tedious, but it leaves time for me to think.”

  “Oh, my,” Sally said with exaggerated alarm. “What new schemes have you come up with now?”

  Brandt laughed. “I’m not always scheming, Grandma.”

  She guffawed, “You’ve been scheming your entire life, boy. While I hope you’ll outgrow it, your little escapade in the dress proves that it hasn’t happened, yet.”

  He responded with a shrug.

  “Now, come here and give me a hug,” Sally held her arms open.

  He leaned forward and hugged the woman, having to bend down to meet her shoulders. When she released her embrace, she smiled.

  “I saved you a piece of dessert.”

  Brandt grinned. “Dessert does sound good.”

  She grabbed a towel from the counter and unwrapped it, revealing a tube-shaped pastry with red sauce oozing from one end.

  When he accepted the gift, he found it still warm. “Thank you, Grandma.”

  “You are welcome.
Now, run along and try to find something to do that won’t cause trouble.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m off to Gunther’s room for a game of Ratio Bellicus.”

  “Good. There’s something to keep your mind occupied.”

  Brandt slipped out the door as he took a bite of the warm pastry. The crust was flaky and the fruity sauce inside full of flavor, leaving him smacking his lips as he headed toward the stairwell.

  While ascending, he heard footsteps coming from above. Turning the corner was Chief Magistrate Filbert, dressed in the black robes of his office. The old man’s wispy white hair wavered with each step, his wrinkled face in a grimace.

  “Hello, Magistrate.” Brandt paused at the landing to allow the man past him.

  With the briefest of inflections, he paused to reply with naught but a breath, “My Prince.” The man then swept past Brandt, his robes billowing behind him as he turned at the next landing and faded from view.

  I wonder if that man has ever been happy, Brandt thought. With a shrug, he took another bite and continued upward.

  A glowlamp on the low table lit the game board, the figures upon it casting shadows that flickered in the light of the fireplace. The map was one that Brandt hadn’t yet tested, the field upon it divided into three areas by a deep, snaking ravine. Five bridges crossed the ravine, creating defensible choke points and a different twist to gameplay strategy.

  Brandt watched General Budakis while the man surveyed the board. His bald head was smooth, shining in the blue light of the glowlamp, his graying goatee and eyebrows the only hair on his head. His cane leaned against the sofa, and his left hand remained curled to his chest. It had been years since Brandt had seen the old general use that hand in a functional manner. When Budakis reached toward the board, his right arm spasmed for a moment before it settled. The man grabbed a cavalry unit and moved forward nine spaces.

  “Cavalry strikes your archer,” Budakis said before tossing a pair of dice.

  The melee attack put Brandt’s archer at a disadvantage, so he threw one die and hoped for luck. It did not happen. With only two life disks remaining, his archer was defeated and removed from the board.

  Reaching forward, Brandt moved an infantry unit forward three spaces, blocking the path to the bridge near his captain. Wincing, he pulled his hand back and stared at his thumb. His cut had reopened.

  “What happened to your thumb?”

  A frown crossed Brandt’s face. “I cut myself in the scullery while washing a butcher’s knife.”

  “You could have it healed, you know.” Budakis moved an archer forward, beside one of his own infantry units that blocked another bridge.

  “It doesn’t hurt much.”

  The man stared at him for a long moment. “Why do you do it?”

  “Do what, Gunther?” Brandt moved an arcanist up the edge of the board.

  “Why continue to test your parents’ patience? I assume you don’t enjoy your time in the scullery.” The man moved a cavalry unit beside another of Brandt’s archers. “Cavalry attacks archer.”

  “It isn’t that I actually enjoy getting into trouble.” Brandt rolled one die while Gunther rolled two of them. “I guess I enjoy the challenge.” He frowned at the roll with Gunther taking another of Brandt’s pieces from the board. “I find that I also enjoy…the process, planning it all out and trying to predict my opponents’ moves.”

  “Opponents?”

  With Brandt’s arcanist now exposed, he moved an infantry unit to guard it, joining another that protected the magic user.

  “Well, that’s how I see it. I have a plan, and they want to stop the plan.”

  Gunther moved his cavalry unit past his men, advancing toward his captain. “Libra Te is coming soon. I’m sure your father will warn you to restrain yourself.”

  Brandt smiled at the memory. “That day marks some of my best pranks.”

  “True.” The general chuckled. “I clearly recall the year you released the greased pig in the crowd. Then, there was that time you dropped the fake body from the balcony over the platform while your father addressed the crowd. It dangled above his head for a good ten seconds before he realized why everyone was screaming.”

  The memories only made Brandt’s grin wider. “Don’t forget the year I put the dye in Burtles’ shampoo.”

  The man’s mirth dried up instantly. “To tell the truth…I recall very little of that year.”

  Brandt stopped mid-chuckle, his eyes turning away. “Sorry, Gunther. I forgot about the assassination attempt.”

  “I wish I could forget.” He lifted his hand and held it before his eyes. It twitched for a short spell and then settled again.

  Images of the moment flashed in Brandt’s head as the game board before him blurred. An assassin in the crowd. Brandt’s father diving atop his mother and driving her to the floor. The blade sailing past the couple to strike Budakis. The general going to the floor, his mouth foaming as his body convulsed. Brandt’s mother urgently attempting to heal the man. Budakis had come within a breath of dying that day…from a poisoned blade intended for Brandt’s father.

  When Brandt’s eyes lifted, he found Gunther staring at him.

  “Regardless, I suggest that you put Libra Te aside this year. Just allow things to go as planned. Your father has enough on his mind without worrying about what you might do.”

  Brandt nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll not sully Libra Te this year. I promise.”

  Gunther smiled, his grin somewhat frightening. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Brandt tapped on his arcanist game piece. “Arcanist gives this infantry unit a Power augmentation.”

  Budakis frowned. “You do know your magic user is now immobile for five turns.”

  Rather than respond, Brandt stared at the board and waited. Budakis moved an archer into position. “Archer fires on arcanist.”

  They each rolled, with Budakis winning. Brandt removed three life disks from his arcanist, leaving only two remaining. One more attack and he would be dead. He reached for the augmented infantry unit, lifting the game piece over the gorge and placing it ten squares away, beside his opponent’s captain.

  “Infantry attacks captain.”

  The man grimaced and grabbed two dice while Brandt rolled all four, earning him a winning roll of fourteen to ten.

  Budakis slid six yellow disks from his captain. “That hurts, but it leaves my captain with four health.”

  A smile crossed Brandt’s face as he lifted the infantry unit, revealing the black disk he had slid into the base before the game began. “Not against my assassin. I win.”

  5

  Too Far

  Cassie eyed herself in the mirror, twisting her head for a better view of the bun at the back, secured with a green ribbon that matched her dress. A few rebellious brown curls hung loose, just enough to suit her. She spun around and held her arms out.

  “What do you think?”

  Ashland smiled. “You look gorgeous, Cass. I can’t believe how fast you’ve grown.” She rubbed a tear away. “My baby is becoming an adult.”

  Cassie’s brow furrowed. “Baby? Brandt is only a few minutes older than I am. Even Broland is only a year older.”

  Her mother moved closer and cupped Cassie’s cheek. “Sorry, dear. You will always be my baby.”

  A sigh and an exaggerated eye roll from Cassie elicited a chuckle from her mother. Ashland pulled her close for a hug and then stepped back. “Perhaps you should pull the dress up just a tad. It’s better to leave more to the imagination.”

  Cassie eyed her mother’s black dress, the neckline low enough to expose a little cleavage. “What about your dress, Mother?”

  “I’m a grown adult…and I’m the queen. It is my prerogative if I want to express my womanhood.”

  “Fine.” Cassie executed another eye roll while making the requested adjustment.

  After settling her crown into her brown curls, Ashland headed toward the door. “We should go or we will be late for dinner. Y
ou don’t want to upset Burtles…or your grandmother.”

  She held the door open, and Cassie stepped into the hallway. “Is Grandma Sally joining us for dinner?”

  Ashland closed the door and turned toward the stairs. The two guards at the top of the stairs followed as mother and daughter descended. “No. She and Milan will eat with my parents. Our table will be full with the visitors.”

  A flicker of anxiety knotted Cassie’s stomach. This was the first eve of Libra Te that she and Brandt were to dine with the royalty of Kantaria. While Cassie had met each of the Dukes and Duchesses, she did not know them well. Most had only been to Kantar during the annual meeting, and she had yet to visit any of the other duchies. She began to question Brandt’s plan. While the prank was epic in concept, the reality of it approaching left her uncertain of the repercussions – whatever they may be.

  Down the stairs they continued, not stopping until the third landing. Ashland and Cassie then led the two guards down a hall lined with ornate paintings and lit by glowlamps in sconces every ten strides. After passing a series of closed doors, they came upon a pair of doors that stood open, a hum of conversation carrying through them.

  The king’s dining hall was a spacious room, occupied by a long table down the center and an arched fireplace along one wall. Glowlamps on a chandelier over the table lit the room, bathing it in soft blue light.

  Ashland paused just inside the doorway and gestured for Cassie to take a seat. Of the six chairs at the near side of the table, only the farthest one remained unoccupied. Cassie headed toward the chair and sat beside Brandt, giving a nod to those who paused their conversation to glance in her direction.

  I was wondering when you would get here, Brandt sent.

  Women require more time to prepare for this sort of thing. What do you have to do? Wet your fingers and rake your hair to the side?