by Andrew Wood
The Bosarians made the defeated occupants of Gartham pile up their own dead. The corpses were taken out of the gates and piled ready for burning, although not before being stripped of anything of value. Amongst those dead was the young Mayor who had fallen near the end of the fighting, making a hopeless stand with a few others. The women, children and men not deemed a threat would be allowed to live, provided they accepted Bosarian rule, although enforcing it now and keeping it so, was a problem Davan was not sure how to achieve.
From his base in Sandale, a bird carrying the message of his army's new success reached him by late morning. He had barely lost a dozen soldiers, although two of his teleporters had succumbed to enemy crossbows. The healers he had sent with them should be able to cater for the score or more injured, although their skills may not be proficient enough to deal with the more serious injuries, meaning the number of dead may yet increase a little.
Davan knew he would soon need to leave Sandale, and keep in touch with his force moving ever nearer the Kothian capital. Each town he took meant he had to find a suitable man to leave in place to run it, along with a number of his troops to ensure it remained as he left it. Fortunately, he and Gorius had seen fit to send a number of bureaucrats along with them for this very purpose. The only job he had left was to select the best man for each town, and leave them to what they were best at.
As much as he would like to have kept all his force together, he knew it had to be divided. The more towns he took, the smaller his force was getting, although they had planned to forward more reinforcements when he and Gorius had planned the initial invasion, he was not certain as to when they might arrive. The previous day he had also sent forth three raiding parties, each containing forty men. These were tasked with moving swiftly west, attacking and destroying any small farmsteads and villages. The more the Kothians were demoralised, the easier the end goal could be achieved. Knowing the ruling Government was totally incapable of defending its own lands, these raiding parties would likely be mostly unopposed.
It was late afternoon before the bird carrying the message to Pitford arrived. King Oran sat in his study, feeling completely useless as to what he could do to aid his people. Rather than ask his advisors he hoped discussing the matters with Ramon, a man whom he already owed so much. He knew parts of the country remained loyal to his rule, those not influenced by the kakistocracy of a government that had deposed him. His brother had sent word that he was preparing defences and was still in control of the western part of the country; one of the few good pieces of news he had received of late.
What was happening further north in his capital and along his eastern borders, was far less encouraging. It was the knowledge he could do nothing to help them that had him feeling so down. He had thought about sending his small army of followers out to intercept the Bosarian invaders, but knew he would only be sending them to their deaths. News that the invaders had magicians amongst their number was the main reason he now sat with Ramon.
It would seem that the Bosarians were heading for the capital Berxsley; that much they were quite sure of. They were also aware of a second army heading south, probably in their direction. It was for this reason that Oran knew he could not send any troops to aid his people even he had had them to spare.
"Our scouts have another report Sire," Ramon told him as they sat opposite sides of the desk in the small study.
"There appears to be something stirring amongst the mountain tribes," he added. With the knowledge that they had from Kurtis, about which direction the abductor had travelled when taking Maxim, and reports from Katria, who had sent some of her birds to fly and check on the situation, he was now confident enough to tell Oran more bad news.
Oran looked across the table at the man who had rescued him, and the one who he was going to rely heavily on to retake his nation back. He gave a short wave with his hand, as if to say go on then tell me how bad it is.
"It is as I suspected Oran," Ramon said skipping the formalities. "I am certain that Bosaria have indeed persuaded the Mountain tribes to attack us from the south as they did last time."
The king sighed heavily, and placed his head in his hands, "What am I to do Ramon?" he replied sounding almost a defeated man. "We have lost our most potent magician to our enemy, and sent the next best to try and recover him." Although Ramon felt for the troubled king, this was no time to be wallowing in doom and gloom. If Kothia was to survive these torrid times, they needed a strong leader.
Ramon stood to pour his king a drink, and helped himself to one whilst he was up. "The first thing we do is deal with the imminent threat," Ramon said placing one of the glasses down in front of Oran. "We have many magicians here, and yes it is true Maxim would have been handy to have, and Darion as well. However, there are still many skilled young men and women, all we need to do is to make sure they are ready." Oran looked up and Ramon thought he saw a glimmer of a smile. "What do your visions say?" Oran finally replied.
"I have seen the future change so many times of late I'll be truthful of that. Remember what I see is only what could happen." Ramon sat back down and took a sip of drink, before telling his king what his visions meant. "With the future changing so often, I can only deduce we are on the verge of a major turning point. We fail now all will be lost and the destruction and death I have witnessed will likely come to being."
Oran took a big drink from his glass, before getting to his feet. "Well we best make sure that does not happen then had we not," the king said with a new self-belief. Ramon smiled, "I'll gather the magicians in the main hall Sire," he replied, "If you can get your soldiers positioned around the wall. Between us, we can repair the outer walls to make things a little trickier for any would be attacker." Oran nodded, "I'll get them onto it straight away. Ask the town folk for volunteers, any strong lad or man able to wield a weapon is to report to the garrison," he added heading for the door. Ramon turned and watched, hoping they had enough time to prepare. He knew when the attack came it would be a brutal one.
Chapter 16.
Maxim's rescue party had travelled from the shore of the Great Lake. Having ridden most of the day, they had barely seen any sign of other people. Danton, who had been placed in charge of the group, had deemed it prudent to give any large villages and towns a wide berth if possible. This was not because of anybody knowing who they were or what they were planning, but more to avoid the chance of them finding out. Both he and Mikel had quite strong Kothian accents making it easy for people to know where they were from. Zack being royalty, spoke far too well, and would also stand out in a group pretending to be just another band of travellers, not to mention the matter of fact they had a huge great dire wolf travelling with them.
For now, diverting away from the populated areas was easier enough, as most of them were well spread out. However, they were also aware that the nearer they got to Waltham the more likely they would be left with little choice; they would have to deal with that if and when the occasion arose. The main downside to avoiding the towns meant them having to endure the nights camping out, rather than seek out a nice warm inn or tavern.
When Danton told them of his plans to stay the night under the stars, he had expected at least some negative feedback. Mainly he had thought Darion as the senior member of the group would have argued, but as yet the old man appeared content in letting Danton take lead. He knew Zack and Melia would be no problem, although he was a little concerned for Mikel, who was appearing a little gloomy. The youngster was usually quite a vocal cheerful chap, but for whatever reason he had kept himself away from the rest of the group whilst they had travelled that day.
As they found a good spot, in a small indent beside a narrow stream he watched the youngsters. Melia, it was now quite apparent was almost stuck to Zack, barely leaving his side more than a few feet. It was then Danton realised what was going on, and he decided he would have a quiet chat with Mikel later. For now though he needed to allocate tasks so they could make camp, and try to make the eveni
ng as comfortable as possible.
Mikel was asked to feed and water the horses, whilst Zack and Melia offered to cook the meal. Darion and Danton said they would fetch firewood, and set up the camp area. This ultimately meant Danton fetching the firewood whilst Darion made himself comfortable. Their position just off the main track, but secluded enough from view meant that at least they could have a good fire; whether that would be the case as they neared Waltham Danton was unsure.
After feeding the horses, Mikel went around each of them, thanking each one in turn, as he had seen Maxim doing once. His linking and understanding of animals was still in its infancy, but Katria had taught him they should be treated as intelligent creatures. He finished up by placing a blanket over each and checking they were all securely tied, before heading off to rejoin the others.
Zack and Melia were cutting vegetables into a pot when he silently passed them by and sat down beside the fire. Danton dropped another pile of sticks to the ground, as he glared down at Darion. The old man looked up, "You're doing a grand job," he grinned, Danton just shook his head and left it at that. Mikel placed a few more of the sticks on the growing flames, before rubbing his hands together above them for a warm. Danton looked over to the troubled youngster; and thought now was as good a time as any to have a chat with him.
"Can you help me gather some more firewood Mikel?" he asked. At first the youngster looked at him as if to say why him, but after a second or so reluctantly got to his feet. He followed Danton, who had created a small globe of light to illuminate the ground ahead of them. Once they were out of earshot of the others Danton turned to Mikel, who was trudging sullenly behind him.
"Mikel," he said turning to the youngster, "What is the matter? Is it Melia and Zack?"
Mikel looked up and nodded although initially did not say anything in reply. Although when he realised Danton was not going to let the subject drop, decided to say his piece.
Mikel's shoulders dropped, "I don't know why Danton, but seeing Melia so close to Zack bothers me.
Danton nodded; it bothered him too, although for different reasons. "You have feelings for Melia?" he asked the question not sure Mikel was actually going to admit he had.
"I do...I never thought I did...I mean there is another girl at Pitford...Lisandra, well I thought I liked her..." he left the sentence unfinished.
"Does Melia know how you feel?"
Mikel shook his head, "I think she thinks I'm an idiot," he replied, kicking a stick with his foot, before reaching down to pick it up.
Danton placed a hand on Mikel's shoulder, "Listen...I am just as confused as you are about Zack and Melia..."
"You are?" Mikel replied a little surprised.
Danton nodded, "Trust me; I am certain there is nothing physical going on between them. Between you and me, I think Zack is just clinging on to the person who is showing him the most attention. Maxim being missing has really affected him, and well Melia is there for him."
Mikel suddenly picked up a little, "You think all this loved up stuff is just platonic then?"
Danton nodded again, "I am certain of it. When Maxim is back amongst us, I fear Melia's attentions will be cast aside...just make sure you are there for her when they are."
Mikel showed the faint signs of a smile, "I will be...until then I guess I'll just have to suffer them as they are."
The pair returned to the others just a few minutes later, Mikel making sure he had some resemblance of a pile of wood in his arms. Darion was sat as they had left him, lazing beside the fire, and Zack and Melia were still dropping things into the pot over the flames. Mikel realised he may as well get comfortable; the food was not going to be ready for a good hour or more yet.
He watched the pair preparing the meal from a renewed perspective. The more he watched, the more he understood what Danton had meant. At first sight they looked like a pair of lovesick puppies, however after watching them again, he could see there was indeed something not right. Melia looked up to see Mikel watching her, and his first thought was to look away quickly, but he decided instead to keep his focus upon her. He smiled her direction, and he was surprised when she merely smiled back.
The meal was not a particularly good one, with the stew being a little runny and bereft of any distinct flavour. The group however were hungry, and having a hot meal at least warmed them up. After asking Shadow to keep patrol around the camp and horses for the night, Mikel settled down to sleep. The ground was cold and damp, and the night air still bitterly cold, but he felt an inner-warmth as he closed his eyes.
In Waltham, Gorius had spent the evening chatting to the three young magicians that had saved the day. None of whom personally, was particularly powerful in their own right, but working together had stopped the elementalist he hoped so badly to utilise, from escaping. He had thought it was more down to luck than any actual coherent teamwork they had managed it, but he was thankful nonetheless. As reward for their work, he had forced himself to endure their company for an evening of fine dining and conversation. He had quickly decided the only one of three he might want anything further to do with was the healer. She was quite attractive in a way, and Gorius, despite being old enough to be the girl's father had found himself looking at her. With long brown hair, and a warming smile, she was wearing a dress that showed just enough of her bosom to draw his attention, he made his mind up to ask her when the others were gone if she would like to stay a little later.
The illusionist that had thought so quickly by making the gates reappear, giving the teleporter and healer enough time to act, was an obnoxious, self-obsessed young man in his twenties, that Gorius had taken an instant dislike to. If he were not mistaken, Gorius was beginning to sense the first signs that his own magicians were questioning his power. The boy escaping his control was certainly an eye-opener even to him, and now he was getting the impression even the three before him clearly did not see him in the same light as before.
Gorius let the illusionist have his little moment of doubt; after all, they had all helped him. If however he heard any such thing again, he would be forced to prove just how powerful he was. After the meal was over, he asked the young girl if she might stay for another drink. At first she was unsure, and looked to the other two for help, but none came before she reluctantly agreed.
Gorius of course knew he could make her stay if he so wished and even force her into his bed if he wanted, yet he had always thought it more enjoyable when a woman did so of her own freewill, and not his.
"You have not even told me your name," Gorius said pouring her a drink.
"Inga, Majesty," she replied looking a little nervously, without her colleagues there to make the numbers up.
Gorius handed her a glass of brandy, and could sense her unease, "Come sit by the fire and relax," he said waving a hand forward.
Inga duly obliged giving him a little smile before sitting on the edge of the cushioned chair beside the fireplace. Gorius sat beside her, and looked her in the eye, as he saw nothing there other than fear, and quickly realised the lustful thoughts he was having about her were not being reciprocated. He first thought of letting her go unharmed but changed his mind when he thought he saw her sneer when his back was turned. He took a deep breath and quickly placed his hand on her forehead.
Inga froze, her body was no longer hers to control as Gorius smiled at her. "Now my dear... perhaps you would like to undress for me," he said sitting back in the chair. The young woman did as was asked, starting by removing her outer layers, each revealing a little more flesh each time. Gorius grinned, perhaps him making her do as she was told, also had its own benefits. After all she deserved it, how dare she doubt his power, there were perhaps one or two others that needed reminding who was in charge, although that could wait for morning. He had decided to put the day's setbacks behind him, enjoy the evening and continue again tomorrow.
His young prisoner was also something he needed to sort out as soon as possible. For now, he was unconscious, being kept so by t
he same drug used to capture him. Gorius however, was no fool; he knew the lad could only be kept this way for a day or two at most. If he had not found out a way of controlling his prize asset by then, he would be left with no choice but to kill him. Shonna had finally got her point over to him; if Bosaria could not have the elementalist to utilise as a weapon then no one could.
Maxim lay on a bed, the slow rising and falling of his chest the only part moving of his unconscious body. Guards were now placed both inside and outside the room, as well as along the corridors. Those men were now issued orders, kill the boy should he as much as move. Gorius was going to take no more chances. Two healers were kept on hand, both to monitor the prisoner's comatose state, and use more of the spore spray if need be. More importantly they could attempt to slow his heart rate again should the unthinkable happen and he wake up.
Maxim's body may have been rendered useless on the outside at least, but his mind was working hard to rectify things on the inside. The images of the day ran through his memory, up to the point where he felt a hand grab him. His eyes may not have been open, but his senses told him, where he was, in a room with others watching over him. There was a foreign substance in his body, and his mind now worked tirelessly to deal with it.
In his sleep-like state Maxim was familiarising himself with a part of his mind that had until recently been dormant. It was full of information, a legacy passed on from one Icenian to the next. Normally the young would have been taught how to access this wealth of knowledge; Maxim was only just discovering his. Images of people he had never met, and of places he had never been became available to him. More importantly was the understanding he had tried so hard to be taught in Pitford, about utilising the great powers at his disposal. Generations of expertise and wisdom, genetically passed on from Mother to child were now his to use.
