The Akorell Break (The Mortal Mage Book 2)

by B. T. Narro

  “I can’t handle cauterizing it,” Leida admitted, full of shame. “I can’t. Erwal was right about me. I’m weak. I’m not meant to fight in war.”

  The warrior squeezed her hand again, hard this time. “I saw you fight, Leida. You’re strong and courageous. Here comes your father. We’ll figure this out.”

  “We’re going to do this here,” Basen said to Leida’s immense relief. “I’m giving caregelow to Leida and Adriya, and we will suffer the consequences of that choice. Here, sweetheart. Drink all of it.”

  Leida somehow found the will to refuse the potion for a moment longer. Her father cared for her more than anything, but his judgment was impaired by her agony. Although the pain was torture, she feared death more.

  “Kirnich?” she asked. “Do you agree?”

  “Yes,” he said. “We’ll figure something out.”

  She drank with her father’s assistance. It tasted like the juice of a spoiled fruit, with a strong salty sensation that might’ve been from her tears falling into the vial. She knew much about caregelow, but she’d never needed it before, never tasted it.

  Many had died or at least worsened their injuries because of lively drunken behavior. Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move, she would repeat to herself until she could fall asleep.

  “Is Adriya all right?” Leida asked.

  “She’s better off than you,” Kirnich said. “As soon as Beatrix is done helping her, she’ll try to put you to sleep.”

  “Let’s move Adriya here,” Basen suggested. “So we can manage the two of them easier.”

  They carried Adriya over. She took Leida’s hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.”

  “No, Adriya. Don’t apologize. You’ve done more than I can ask for. Thank you. How is your leg?”

  “Good. That archer couldn’t get enough strength behind her shot to bury the arrow into my bone. She shouldn’t have shot from tree branches.” Adriya sounded furious. “They must be desperate to kill by ambush.”

  If Leida felt anything past her pain, it was anger. Why? The Tenred troops were just doing what they could to fight back. Knowing this didn’t seem to help, though. She hated their archers, she hated their tactics, and she especially hated the man who’d sliced open her back. She surprised herself by feeling glad he was dead.

  “Something seems to be happening by the wall,” Beatrix said. “I’m going to check with my spyglass. I’ll return soon.”

  “Make sure you don’t get too close,” Basen advised her.

  “Don’t worry about that.”

  Leida felt everything moving slowly, her thoughts foggy. She didn’t have much more time as herself.

  “How many died on both sides?” Leida asked her father.

  “About forty on ours and sixty on theirs. The rest of Tenred’s soldiers who attacked us have been captured. I don’t know what Cleve will do with the prisoners, but I imagine these aren’t the first he’s dealt with.”

  We lost forty? It seemed to be about half of those in this particular group, she estimated. She wondered if anyone she knew by name had died. She’d recognized a few students during their first encounter, one woman close enough to call friend. She hoped all were still alive.

  Beatrix returned after a little while. “The gate of Tenred’s wall is opening. Some of their soldiers are walking out. It seems to be a meeting of some sort. Leida, I’m going to put you asleep now so I can investigate closer. Relax, or this won’t work. You might wake up somewhere else depending on what your father decides to do before the others arrive. It’s normal to feel confused. Just try not to move.”

  With the pain already subsiding, Leida wiped away her drying tears and made herself as comfortable as she could. “I’m ready.”

  Beatrix put her hand on Leida’s head. Drowsiness overwhelmed her.

  “Beatrix, you shouldn’t go anywhere near them,” Basen said, “because—“

  Leida fell asleep before she could hear the rest.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Desil hadn’t heard much about the king of Tenred. Hawthen had come into power around the same time that Fernan Estlander won the crown after a vote of the people of Kyrro, but the citizens of Tenred didn’t elect their king in the same way. Desil didn’t know exactly what had happened after the last leader of Tenred, a queen with the surname of Hiller—the cousin of Basen—was killed. There had been no news of uprisings, so it was likely that the people of Tenred favored their king in the same way Kyrro’s citizens favored theirs.

  Hawthen wore his crown forward on his head, slightly atilt. He’d donned a gray cap of cloth beneath the crown that matched his beard and the locks of hair resting on his shoulder. Desil assumed the cap was to hide baldness, for it looked akin to hair, difficult to notice from afar. Hawthen had a scar down his cheek and an unafraid look in his eyes as if he’d emerged victorious from worse situations than this—the Academy’s army at his doorstep. He showed no surprise when Allephon approached him wearing the crown of a king.

  “Your father?” Hawthen asked.

  “Dead. We will get to that in a moment.” Allephon didn’t bow or offer a greeting.

  Hawthen glanced from side to side. He seemed content with their chosen meeting spot. The two kings weren’t far from the wall, where hundreds of Tenred archers were protected by parapets, their weapons across their backs or hanging from their shoulders, for now.

  On Kyrro’s side, on the ground, at least a thousand men and women of various classes—warriors, mages, and psychics—clustered around their new king. Desil was the only one among them without armor. He had been the focus of much of their attention during the short walk toward the wall, but keeping close to Reela and Cleve prevented anyone from questioning him.

  Reela had separated from them moments ago to form a small circle with only the two kings and herself.

  “We met years ago, Hawthen, but I’m not sure if you remember. I’m—”

  “Reela Polken. Of course I remember. Your presence is the only reason I agreed to this meeting. I trust the Wind Knights will keep everything in order.”

  “Order will be kept no matter what,” Allephon interjected. “This is no trick. There will not be battle today and hopefully ever again. I don’t want to kill your people, Hawthen.”

  “And I don’t want to kill yours, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be bloodshed.”

  Hawthen had come with a retinue of swordsmen in full steel battle suits. The only two without armor behind him were women in black robes with ten red stars around their midsection, representing the ten original founders of Tenred during a rebellion against Kyrro’s tyrannical king at the time, Jinn Takary.

  “We only began preparing for war after you broke our agreement,” Allephon said.

  “What do you accuse me of doing to break our agreement?” His hostile voice made Desil tense.

  “You erected this wall around your territory.” Allephon gestured at it as if it were a beverage Hawthen had carelessly spilled. “The wall was to remain destroyed, as it had been after each war between Kyrro and Tenred, and yet you rebuilt it taller and stronger. Why else would you do that unless you were preparing for war?”

  “Your family showed interest in Tenred. The wall is for defense against your aggression.”

  “How did we show interest?”

  “Your father knew. You don’t?”

  Allephon’s gaze shifted to Reela. His face held no emotion as he stared back at Hawthen. “I don’t.”

  Hawthen seemed shocked as he looked at the two women without armor behind him. They shook their heads. He checked with Reela next.

  “As we agreed,” she responded, “I’m to say if I sense anything untrue from either of you. I haven’t yet.”

  Desil could only assume the Estlanders’ interest in Tenred became known from spies in Kyrro’s castle. Fernan must’ve never told his son about either his interest in Tenred or whatever spies they might’ve discovered, but both seemed unlikely to Desil, yet more so to Hawthen. He
still seemed at a loss for words. The king looked as if he’d swallowed something sour when he finally spoke.

  “Do you even know your father’s stance on this war?”

  “It was the same as mine. I want peace.”

  “Then why is your army here outside my territory?”

  Allephon paused. “Ask what you really want to know, Hawthen.” There was a surprising lack of animosity in his voice. He even seemed sluggish as if already tired of this ordeal.

  “I gladly will,” Hawthen said without the same calm demeanor. His voice rose. “Before Tenred began erecting the wall behind me, your family had finished a curtain wall around Kyrro’s castle. You rebuilt the Academy bigger with walls twice the size as before, recruiting more citizens to be trained for combat. Your father refused to end the contracts that every man and woman must sign upon entry to the Academy, forcing them to fight for your family in any situation of your choosing, even though it was well known that the headmaster of the Academy was not in favor of such contracts. I ask the point behind all of that if you claim your family wants peace. Will you really deny in front of psychics that you were preparing for war?”

  “We were preparing to defend our territory in the case of war.”

  “At first, yes I can believe that. But what happened in the following years?”

  “Regarding what?”

  “You know what.” Hawthen’s cheeks went red. “Stop trying to dance around the answer. What happened after you built your walls and trained your troops? Something changed.” He was clearly hinting at something Desil was keenly aware of and waiting for Allephon to address: the issue of money.

  “Nothing changed. We built up our army to defend ourselves so you wouldn’t take Kyrro with your ever-increasing army. It seems to me that you’re referring more to yourself than to my family. What changed for you?”

  “It was your father who made me recruit in the first place,” Hawthen insisted.

  “He did no such thing.”

  “I’m not to blame for this war.”

  “Neither is my family.”

  Desil could feel the crowd sharing his irritation as both kings continued to speak without really saying anything, without directly answering each other. Part of him wanted to yell out, “How did Fernan die?” But all it was likely to do was get him arrested by Allephon’s men. He would be questioned later, without Reela by his side, and they would discover who he really was and torture him for answers about Basen.

  Desil feared what would happen when the truth did come out. The air was laden with aggression, two armies poised for battle. He tried to renew his trust in the Wind Knights to keep the situation controlled, but after finding out how little power they actually had, chaos felt inevitable.

  “If we’d never built an army to defend ourselves,” Allephon said, “then you would’ve taken Kyrro as soon as you were able.”

  “You have nothing to support that claim.”

  “Are you saying it’s not true?”

  “I am.”

  “Sire, I can feel that’s partially a lie,” Reela told Hawthen apologetically. The crowd murmured.

  Desil expected Allephon to show some sign of triumph, but his mouth remained flat.

  Hawthen inhaled sharply. “I can’t say what I would’ve done if Kyrro’s army ceased to exist because I don’t know for certain, but I can say with complete honesty that the reason for my walls and the reason for my army are to protect my territory. They are not to take Kyrro. Enough of this dancing, Allephon. I know your truth and you know mine. We both have our reasons for war. If I don’t take your land, you’re going to kill my people until you take mine. Admit that you follow the same thought.”

  “That depends on what else you admit here in front of psychics. I told you earlier that I don’t care for war, but I will fight until the threat to my territory is gone if it’s the only way to protect my present and future citizens.”

  “If you want peace, let’s have it.”

  Allephon showed him a thoughtful look. “We were at peace before. What’s to say we won’t be at war again after I withdraw my troops back to Kyrro? The Fjallejon Mountains will be easy for you to take without us there. Is this your plan?”

  “I have no plan for peace because I know you’re not going to agree to it. Answer this straight, Allephon. Do you have any spies in my army?”

  “No. Do you in mine?”

  “You don’t know your own army!” Hawthen said, outraged. “You’re probably not even aware of everything your father had planned.” He let out his breath. “I suppose that doesn’t matter now that he’s dead. You claim that you wouldn’t have gone to war if I’d never rebuilt an army and walls to defend this territory, but your father would have. It’s the reason I did. Psyche can confirm it.”

  “I need psyche to confirm instead if you will come for Kyrro if I disband my army.”

  Hawthen looked at Allephon sideways as if this might be a trick. “You do know what changed for both of us.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You really have no idea? Psychics, what can you tell from his energy?”

  “It’s been consistent, sire,” said one of the women behind him. “He doesn’t lie.”

  “He doesn’t feel much at all,” said the other psychic.

  Reela told Hawthen, “You’re the one who said to end this dancing. Say what you mean so we can finish this.”

  Desil panicked briefly. Had she changed her mind and would no longer question Allephon about his father? No, she still had to do it, but she might wait until they were in private. Perhaps she saw how it all might unfold if she announced it here.

  “King Fernan and I both paid heavily to build our armies,” Hawthen announced to the crowd. “Ten thousand men each; at least it was that at the start of this war. All my soldiers must be paid by the week. Opportunities remain for land and promotions. I know the Estlander family encountered the same issue once they had so many men to pay.” He paused and fixed his stare on Allephon.

  “What was the point of recruiting and paying so many men if they weren’t to be used? Your family doesn’t have the coin to support such an army for years more, and your people aren’t going to double their payment of taxes to support your forces without chance of revolt. Your father couldn’t disband the army because of the threat of mine, but the same goes for me. War became inevitable. I was hoping by coming here that we could find a resolution that would make my people safe. Now I must admit, in front of the psychics, that I don’t understand your motive behind this summons. It’s clearly not the same as mine. Explain yourself.”

  “I want my people to be safe, the same as you,” Allephon replied. “Knock down this wall. Use the stone for something to benefit your people. Build bridges and cathedrals. Your religious folk will love you for it, and the leftover stone can be used to erect statues of you. If you say in front of the psychics that you will knock down this wall, then I will agree right here and now to peace for ten years.”

  Hawthen squinted in obvious distrust. “What’s to stop you from attacking as soon as the wall crumbles?”

  “Because of our agreement.”

  “No agreement will make me trust you. With your Academy strategically placed at the southern entrance to the Fjallejon Pathway, you or a future king can hide an entire army within its walls and march through the pathway to surprise my people at any point. Without walls, the homes of my people are exposed. You could pillage half the town before Tenred’s army mounts a defense.”

  Hawthen gestured behind him again. “These walls protect us. They do nothing to threaten you. Many of my citizens have spent a decade of their life fortifying this territory. I’m not about to undo that because of an agreement that may or may not last. To end this war for good, we need more than an agreement. We need change, something that will unite our territories for the first time in history. Let the Elves and Krepps and greedy kings from Greenedge stand as our only threat. There will be enough to worry about with th
em if we unite, and I have the answer as to how we will do that.”

  “Go ahead,” Allephon challenged.

  “Share the Academy with Tenred.”

  Desil expected Allephon to laugh or outright reject the offer, but he yawned instead. “Excuse me,” he said in apology. “Continue.”

  Hawthen lost some of the wind behind his words at Allephon’s surprising show of boredom.

  “Sharing the Academy with us would mean the start of sincere cooperation between our territories.” The king of Tenred found his voice as he continued. “It would be the end of a long rivalry that has resulted in the death of thousands. I, and every future king of Tenred, will pay the costs of half the upkeep of the Academy. It is this coin that leads to war. Every king of Kyrro has seen the amount of gold lost each year to the specialized training of thousands of budding men and women, and they think, ‘Why not make use of these troops? A war would bring in more wealth from captured land and reduce the number of soldiers requiring payment for their service.’ Your father came to this conclusion, as would any king in his position. His army and mine continued to grow until neither of us could sustain the cost. Split the Academy with Tenred and we will reward our armies with the payment and land promised. New work will arise. Both territories will flourish.”

  “I’ve heard enough,” Allephon said. “You’ve made your intentions of this meeting clear. You mean to take half of the Academy, but can you really promise peace will remain?”

  “If enough people want war, then war begins no matter what is promised,” Hawthen said sadly. “This is what I can guarantee: If you grant half of the Academy to Tenred, you will ensure a swift and lasting end to this war. We will have begun something that is likely to resist rebellion, no matter what ugly shape it takes, through the unity of our territories. I don’t plan to go to war with Kyrro at any point after that. I will see us as allies.”

  He paused to survey the crowd. Desil took a quick look himself and noted that many appeared surprised at what Tenred’s king was proposing.