by Aaron Hodges
“I wish I had your optimism, Inken,” Gabriel gave a short smile. “What’s your secret?”
Inken met his eyes. “I think I got it from Eric.”
Gabriel scowled, fighting down the anger Eric’s name still brought. He may have decided to let go of his hate and join them, but the act was easier said than done. He shook his head, forcing a smile. “I’m glad Enala has him then. They’re going to need all the courage they can get.”
Silence fell around the table as they nursed their drinks. When Caelin finally spoke again, there was frustration in his voice. “Elton did not lie; the king has changed,” he shook his head. “How could he just dismiss us like that, after all we’ve done… after all I’ve done for him?”
Gabriel stared at the sergeant, surprised by the venom in the words. “What do you mean?”
Caelin rubbed his eyes. “I have served Fraser for years, long before I won the king’s tournament. This is not the first quest I have undertaken for him,” his eyes took on a haunted look. “He has always trusted me. Though I can’t say an assignment has ever unravelled this badly.”
“I do not know the man,” Inken offered. “But his manner did not seem to match the tales told of him.”
“No,” Gabriel added. “From what we heard of the king in Oaksville, he was a kind man, not quick to anger.”
“He’s different, there’s no doubting that,” Caelin accepted. “But to all but accuse me of treachery? To suggest I could have killed one of our own?” his words drifted off into a growl.
Inken leaned across the table, eyes flashing a warning. “Careful, Caelin,” she warned. “We are being watched,” she sat back in her seat and took another swallow of ale.
Caelin’s eyes widened and Gabriel would have turned to look around the bar, had Inken’s foot not connected with his shin.
“Don’t, you’ll give us away,” the hunter fixed him with a glare. “The man at the bar, the one nearest to the bartender, he’s been following us since the citadel. Someone is keeping tabs on us.”
From the corner of his eye, Gabriel glanced a man in an indistinct green tunic and black leggings, with a sword strapped to his side. His eyes were in his drink, ignoring the other men at the bar. There was nothing to the way he sat suggesting he might be interested in the three patrons in the corner.
Caelin swore softly beneath his breath. “Damnit. If that’s true, things are worse than I thought.”
Inken shrugged, but Gabriel glimpsed the same concern reflected in her eyes. “It’s what I expected, after our reception. They don’t want us going anywhere…” she paused. “Or, perhaps they do not want us looking around too much.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” she looked around the table. “I mean things may not be all as they appear here in Ardath. Balistor was a trusted Magicker here, and he obviously had many friends on the council. Maybe they weren’t all as shocked as they seemed when you told them of Balistor’s betrayal. Maybe there are other traitors amidst the king’s advisors,” she took a breath. “Maybe they’ve turned the king.”
The hairs on Gabriel’s arms stood up. He watched as a tremor swept through Caelin. “No, that’s not possible,” the sergeant growled. “I know the man; he would never betray Plorsea. He loves his people.”
“Even so, how else can we explain the way he greeted you, one of his most loyal soldiers?”
Caelin fell silent, his eyes haunted. Gabriel stared at him, struggling to find some words of comfort. “What about Katya?” he said at last. Caelin and Inken turned to stare. “She seemed pretty determined to prevent the army marching north. Could she be the traitor? From what the king said, she is one of his most trusted advisors. She could be steering him down the wrong path.”
Inken frowned. “It’s possible. No one is beyond suspicion; they could all be traitors for all we know.”
“If they were, it would certainly explain the king’s despair, listening to their dark whispers all day,” Gabriel said in a hollow voice.
Caelin still had not looked up from his drink. “How do we figure out who is friend and who is foe?” his voice cracked. “You say Katya could be the traitor, but how do we know if she’s not just incompetent? That she truly believes holding back from the Gap is the best strategy?”
“We don’t,” Inken replied. “We can’t. All we can do is hope to convince them otherwise. If the king is truly uncorrupted, we at least have a chance of persuading him. Same with the other councillors, if they truly serve the interests of Plorsea.”
“You want to go to the king again? To the councillors?” Gabriel shuddered, remembering the detached eyes of the council staring down at him. “Who are they anyway, the councillors? How did Katya become so close to the king?”
“They are the king’s advisors, elected by the people of Ardath and other provinces. They are meant to offer innovation and differing opinions to the rulers of Plorsea. They also help to govern different parts of the nation: trade, agriculture, mining, even parts of the army. Katya has been a councillor for years, and is one of the few Fraser trusts absolutely. She commands the city’s defence.”
“Maybe that’s why she wanted the army here, to bolster Ardath’s protection against Archon?” Inken asked.
“It’s possible,” Caelin answered. “But it wouldn’t make sense. The Plorsean army cannot stand against the armies Archon will muster. Alone, we would be overwhelmed.”
“And if Trola and Lonia stand alone at Fort Fall, the battle there won’t last long either,” Inken added.
“Agreed,” Caelin replied, sitting straighter in his seat. “So we had better hope your plan works, Inken. Our only chance is to get the council to see reason. I just pray there are more loyalists than traitors in their midst.”
A silence fell around the table, as each realised there was no one left to pray too. “They might be gone, but we’re still here,” Gabriel swallowed. “Michael believed in us, believed we could win; it’s up to us to prove his words true.”
“Agreed,” Inken and Caelin added in unison.
They raised their mugs again, offering one last toast to their fallen comrade.
“What about Enala and Eric?” Gabriel whispered after a moment’s silence. “Where are they?”
Sadness crept into Inken’s face with the mention of Eric, though she tried to hide it. Gabriel watched her swallow the lump in her throat. “We must have faith. I believe they’re still alive. For whatever reason, they must have decided to carry on their quest alone. Eric will get Enala to the Sword. It’s up to us to keep the Three Nations together long enough for it to matter.”
“Agreed,” Caelin whispered.
“Agreed,” Gabriel repeated.
*************
“Don’t worry about your magic, either of you,” Laurel growled. “This time I’ve got you both nicely under wraps,” she bared her teeth, pressing the dagger hard against Enala’s throat. “Who knew this one was a latent Magicker? Certainly not Thaster!” she laughed.
Eric wiped ash from his tunic, fighting to remain calm. “What do you want from us, Laurel?”
“Not much,” she shrugged. “Just the bounty on your head, Eric.”
Ice wrapped around Eric’s heart and he struggled to keep the fear from his face. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”
Laurel grasped Enala’s hair and pulled back her head. The dagger sliced a shallow cut across Enala’s throat. Blood trickled down her neck. “I don’t really need her alive, you know. Now throw down your sword, Eric.”
Hands shaking, Eric tossed Alastair’s sword to the ground. Quick as a Raptor, Laurel threw Enala aside and scooped up the blade. She held it out before her, warning Eric to come no closer. He held his hands up in surrender.
“Excellent, there you go. I knew you could listen,” she waved Alastair’s sword at them. “Well, Chole is about one day in that direction. I suggest you start walking,” she swiped the sword for emphasis.
Enala fell in beside Er
ic as they began to march in the direction Laurel indicated. The Baronian’s footsteps followed close behind them.
“Be good, and maybe I’ll let Enala live when we reach Chole,” Laurel laughed.
Eric’s mind raced, searching for a solution. They had come so far; he could not believe their escape could fail at this last hurdle. Yet now they found themselves unarmed and powerless against the Magicker; with the sword at her side and Eric’s own blade, Laurel held all the cards.
He shot a glance sideways and saw Enala looking back at him. Blood still seeped from the wound at her throat, turning her shirt to a red mess, but there was defiance in her eyes. He smiled back. After what Enala had accomplished last night, he would not want to be the one left standing between the girl and freedom.
They just needed the right opportunity.
*************
Eric slumped to the grass with a groan. The volcanic peaks of Chole were just peaking above the rolling hills, towering on the distant horizon. But with night setting they could go no further. So close to the desert, who knew what lurked in the darkness. Especially now, with Antonia gone.
Beside him Enala sat with slightly more grace. Laurel had pushed them hard and with no food, they were close to breaking. Eric’s legs trembled and a sharp pain pricked his spine. He lay back, inhaling a deep breath to fight the ache.
“Anyone would think you two weren’t used to walking,” Laurel smirked, crouching down beside them.
“Maybe it’s the lack of food and water,” Enala snapped back.
Laurel laughed and pulled a water skin from her belt. She tossed it down between them. “There you are, drink up,” she sat nearby, casting her eye over them. “I’ll admit, the two of you interest me. For starters, why give Enala a fake name?”
Enala glared back, lips shut tight. Eric answered in her stead. “Why do you care? You’ll be done with us come tomorrow.”
“True, true,” Laurel grinned, “but still I’ve been wondering. Maybe there’s a bounty on your head too, Enala?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Enala grated.
Laurel sighed. “I thought we’d gotten past this. After all, we don’t want to take the hard route, do we?” her dagger slid from its sheath, glittering in the last rays of the dying sun.
Eric gritted his teeth. Then an idea came to him. “That depends on whose side you’re on now, Laurel.”
“What do you mean?”
Eric leaned forward, staring deep into her grey eyes. “Are you still Baronian? Is that your plan, once you dispose of us? To find another tribe and volunteer yourself back into slavery?”
Laurel scowled, waving the dagger. “Watch what you say, Eric. I don’t need you alive. What do my plans matter to you?”
“He’s just wondering where your allegiances lie,” Enala joined in. “Are you still tied up with the trappings of that cult, or do you want to be your own person again?”
“You’re still chirping on about that rubbish,” Laurel cackled. “Of course I’m free, I always was, I told you,” even to Eric her words sounded weak, lacking belief. After a moment’s silence she stood and started to pace. Finally she spun. “I don’t know what I’ll do now, but it’s nothing to you!”
Eric laughed. “Coward.”
He reeled back as Laurel’s fist smashed him in the face. His teeth rattled and his nose went crunch before her weight slammed him into the ground. She crashed down on top of him, hands grasping for his throat, eyes just an inch from his own. He choked for breath as she began to squeeze.
Laurel smiled at him. “As I said, the bounty for you is dead or alive, Eric. The only reason you’re alive is to make my life easier. Better you walk yourself to the noose, rather than me carrying you. So let this be your final warning,” the pressure on his throat eased. “Do not test me.”
Eric coughed as she released him and stood up. “Now,” she walked towards Enala, her sword sliding from its sheath. “Why, Enala, did you give a fake name?”
Enala stood her ground, glaring up at the taller woman, fists clenched at her side. She would die before she gave the secret away.
Closing his eyes in defeat, Eric croaked out an answer. “Because she is being hunted.”
Laurel looked back. “By who?” greed flickered in her eyes.
Eric shook his head, pausing for a heartbeat to weigh the wisdom of his next decision. Laurel might be out for herself, but he had not mistaken the disgust in her eyes when she spoke of Thaster’s dark magic. “She is not hunted by any mortal force. She is pursued by the servants of Archon himself.”
Laurel’s face paled in the twilight. “What?” she looked from Eric to Enala. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You heard him,” Enala glared back.
“You’re joking?” fear shook Laurel’s voice.
Eric regained his feet. “It’s no joke. Enala happens to be the last person alive who can wield the Sword of Light. She is the only one left who can stop Archon. So unless you enjoy the thought of a world ruled by dark magic, I suggest hers is one bounty you don’t collect.”
Silence fell. At last Laurel spoke again. “This is some trick…”
“It’s not,” they replied in unison.
Laurel glanced between them again, uncertainty written on her face. Then she shook her head. “You’re both delusional.”
“It’s the truth,” Eric replied, resolute. “Antonia and Jurrien have already fallen. It won’t be long before Archon comes. Then everyone will have a decision to make. The dark or the light. Sooner or later, you will have to pick a side, Laurel.”
Laurel waved a hand, as though trying to dismiss his words. “Be quiet, the both of you. I’ve heard enough of your nonsense for one night. Sleep, or don’t. I’m going to rest. And don’t bother trying anything, I don’t need to be awake to keep a couple of unruly Magicker’s under control,” with that Laurel turned and walked a few paces down the hill and slumped to the grass.
Despite what she’d said about sleep, she sat with her legs pulled up to her chest and her head on her knees, staring out into the darkness.
Eric looked at Enala. This was the closest they’d come to privacy in days, and there were things they needed to discuss.
She answered his first question before he could ask it. “Where did it come from, the magic? How…?”
So he’d been right, Enala had no idea. “It came from you. Just like your ancestors, you have powerful magic within you. As for why it chose last night to appear, well, we were lucky. Alastair once told me magic only emerges on a Magicker’s birthday. The age varies, depending on the person and what they experience growing up. Happy coincidence that Thaster chose today to fight you,” he paused and smiled. “Happy birthday, by the way.”
Enala nodded. “The last few days I kept feeling this pressure within me, whenever I was angry. Last night, it just snapped, like something within had shattered. And for the first time, that pressure was released.”
“I’m just glad it happened,” he smiled. “Whatever dark magic Thaster was using, it was no longer a fair fight. I think we’d both be dead by now if you hadn’t taken them by surprise.”
To his shock, Enala began to sob. “But there were so many people, so many that had nothing to do with the fight. How many died because of me?”
“Enala, it was not your fault,” he reached out and gripped her wrist. “You could not have controlled your power without training. I can barely restrain mine, even with everything Alastair taught me. And besides,” his face hardened. “It’s not like they were innocent. They knew what was happening, that we were slaves fighting for our very lives. They made their decision when they joined that man.”
Enala’s sobs started to subside. When she finally looked up her eyes still watered, but her voice was strong. “Will you teach me, Eric?”
Eric smiled. “I can try. Now?”
Enala shrugged. “At least it might take our minds off our stomachs.”
Eric nodded. “Okay. Well,
the first thing a Magicker must learn is meditation…”
*************
Laurel sat in the darkness, listening to the rhythmic breathing of the two young Magickers. She could feel their magic; powerful, bubbling below the surface, seeking its freedom as they sank deeper into their minds. Even so, it took little effort to keep the blue and red glows in check.
It left her mind free to wander.
Who are these two? The question bounced around her head. Had they actually spoken the truth? Could Enala wield the infamous Sword of Light? Was Archon really hunting her?
An icy breeze swept across the hilltop. She shivered, pulling the cloak tighter around her and burying her head into her knees. It could not be true: the tribe had heard nothing of their tale, and as nomads the Baronians picked up most of the gossip in the Three Nations.
She shook her head, her thoughts changing direction. In less than twenty-four hours, her world had collapsed. The girl’s latent magic had been undetectable until the moment she released it – and by then it was far too late to stop. Laurel’s magic only prevented a Magicker from tapping into their powers; once unleashed, there was nothing she could do but flee.
It had taken all she had to outrun the flames. Only the head start provided by her magic’s warning allowed her to get clear. The other Baronians had not been so lucky. She guessed less than half their number had escaped the firestorm which followed.
Still though, more than enough to carry word to the other tribes. To carry word of Laurel’s failure.
The other chiefs would not take Thaster’s death lightly. They would be out for blood, out to show the world they were not to be trifled with. The word would go out, a list of those responsible made. The heads of Eric and Enala would be at the top of that list. For her failure, Laurel would come a close second.
Regardless of her own desires, Laurel would not be welcomed back into the fold. Yet who else would want a disgraced Magicker such as herself? Who would be powerful enough to protect her from the wrath of the Baronian chiefs?
