Magic's Genesis- The Grey

by Rosaire Bushey

  Krieger went ahead and bowed to the king. Lydria followed with the Eifen and the three stood abreast, bowing as one to the monarch.

  Lydria took in the room as a reflex as her father had taught her. Always, he had said, be aware of how to leave a room, and how many potential foes might be in any room with you. As she surveyed the throne room, she noticed a dozen armed guards. Four moved to positions in front of the doors they had just entered, four more lined the aisle to the king’s right, behind Haustis, and four more opposite them behind Haidrea. They were far enough back where it would take them only a few seconds to draw their weapons and lunge toward them.

  The weapons and armor worn by the guards was not ceremonial, Lydria noted. They were clean and polished, but the scabbards were worn so the weapons could be pulled smoothly.

  Turning her attention to the king, Lydria realized for the first time he was shorter than her father. He wasn’t old, but he looked unwell and Lydria had to force herself not to run to his side to more closely inspect him. While all around him soldiers showed signs of heightened tension, Ahlric was slumped in his chair listening to Krieger. His back was bowed, and his eyes half closed, red, and wet as if Krieger were telling him a sad tale. His shoulders were curved forward, small and weak, and the king’s hands rested on his legs like claws with nails as black as night.

  As Krieger spoke privately with the king, Lydria stood on the thick rug that led to the slightly raised dais that held Ahlric’s throne. Light came flooding in from windows that ran nearly the height of the walls. There were at least ten painted windows on either side showing scenes from the founding of Wesolk and the early kings, but all were narrow and the light they provided was augmented by torchlight from sconces along both walls between the windows. The colored sunlight reflected dust in the room, and narrow banners hanging high above the sconces showed the noble houses of Wesolk and gave the room a softer feel than the stone interior warranted. The throne itself, largely concealed by Ahlric and Krieger, was not the ornate piece of furniture she had anticipated. It was small and had a cushioned seat with a back that only went as high as the middle of a person’s back. It was a practical piece of furniture made for conducting business, not creating impressions. Other than the throne, the only other furniture were several unused benches lining the walls under the windows.

  When Krieger finished speaking with the king, he came back to Lydria and told her to answer the king’s questions honestly, as discussed.

  “I would speak to the one who goes by Lydria,” said the king with a voice that was both weak and tired, confirming to Lydria that Ahlric was not well. She turned to face the king and stepped forward, bowing again. “I am Lydria, your highness.”

  “You are the daughter of Cargile?”

  “Yes, your highness.”

  The king’s chest heaved as he fought to bring air into his chest. His face, despite his weepy eyes, seemed genuinely sad as he mentioned Lydria’s father’s name – she was struck that he should be so moved by the loss of a common soldier.

  “Your father was a clever man and highly thought of within these halls. I’ve been told that your loss has also been felt within your father’s company. I make it a point to try to speak with men who return from battle and who have suffered injury. Many times have I heard of your extraordinary skills with a needle, and when needs be, a blade.” Ahlric smiled at Lydria and lowered his head knowingly, as if he had heard some of the stories of her run-ins with drunks at taverns. “It is a comfort to the men knowing such as yourself serve alongside them, and I’m happy to have you returned to us, although I wish your father were by your side.”

  Lydria felt her face flush and a tear form and she quickly bowed again in grateful acknowledgement of the king’s kind words.

  “Sadly though, it appears we cannot linger long to remember the fallen. Krieger tells me there is mischief up north which may find its way south. To this, I know the truth, as my agents tell me that more than a dozen small hamlets and villages far to the north have come under the sway of a man called Wynter who pretends now to be a king. A king of frozen fishing villages.”

  The guards allowed themselves a quiet and quick chuckle that made its way around the room, starting with the guards by the door to those closest to the throne. Neither Lydria, nor Krieger joined their laughter nor did Ahlric who only allowed himself a broad smile.

  Krieger took a half step forward and added, “sire, Wynter may also be known to you, for he and I share a common past. You may not have known him by name, but in your name, he performed certain…delicate matters that were most beneficial to the kingdom.”

  The mirth in the king’s face dropped noticeably. He understood the abilities a man such as Krieger possessed. “Were you a compatriot of this man then, Krieger? What do you know of him?”

  “His skill, sire, was without equal in our rare profession. He came to his power young and has worked in many lands to the far south, and even once or twice beyond the eastern sea, I believe. I know not what connections he might have in any of these places, but his awareness of the greater world beyond Bayside is beyond question. It is not known if he is in contact with people in those lands, but he is not averse to doing what he must to achieve his goals.” Ahlric looked at Krieger as he finished the report and its meaning was not lost on the king.

  Ahlric had been on the throne for many years and while he had no children of his own, or even a wife, he was a likeable enough man and a capable monarch. Krieger explained that where some heads of state were dim and needed to be spoon-fed information, Ahlric was quick to pick up on intrigue and made sure he had information from multiple sources. Krieger’s information was the best, of course, but Ahlric was careful to not rely too heavily upon any one advisor. It was, Krieger believed, perhaps Ahlric’s defining trait, and one that had served him remarkably well.

  The king moved his head slowly from Krieger until he was facing Lydria again. His voice had lost the light-heartedness of a moment before. “Krieger tells me you have met Wynter…”

  It was her invitation to speak and she dutifully recalled the killing of Josen, the flight of her father and Bracknell to capture him, and the odd way in which he spoke to himself as if holding a conversation with someone else. She spoke of the destruction of the forest and how he had walked away down the ruined path of felled trees and tilled earth; and how she was finally rescued by an Eifen warrior. Ahlric looked up and smiled as Haidrea inclined her head toward him. Lydria did not speak of the blue stone, the blue collars she and Wynter shared as a mark of their abilities, a bobcat, or the power she and Wynter possessed.

  “Do we deal simply with a madman, then, Krieger?” the king asked when Lydria’s story was finished. “A crazy person who speaks to voices in his head and calls himself king of the north because he’s manipulated a group of peasants to do so? Am I supposed to march an army into the north for a simple lunatic who holds sway over land that is barely arable and mostly useless?”

  Before Krieger could respond, Haustis cleared her throat gently and stepped forward. “Noble king, if I may, might I be permitted to speak?” Krieger introduced her.

  Ahlric, upon hearing the name Haustis made a small effort to push his shoulders back and sit up straighter while continuing to lean forward. “I have heard the name Haustis. Even some within the kingdom have heard this name and the legend of the Woman of the Woods, as she is sometimes called. How comes it to be that she stands now before me? Please, lady, proceed.”

  Haustis told of her first meeting with Wynter in the woods north of the desolation of the forest and how she could feel something out of place. “The spirits sensed that this man is more than a typical man,” she said to him. “The spirits showed me a vision of him calling fire from the sky and walking unharmed through a forest of spears. He is not a natural man, good king, he is a man to fear and the spirits tell me he must be destroyed before he has gained his full power.”

  “Does he threaten me, Krieger?” The king’s question was ca
lm and even but Lydria could feel the soldiers at the back of the room take a nearly silent step forward.

  “He threatens us all.”

  “And what say you, warrior? What is your position on this mad man?”

  Haidrea did not expect to speak and Lydria quickly realized the king knew this. Ahlric was clever. He wanted as much information as possible and he was going to get it.

  With all the pride of an Eifen warrior, Haidrea walked to the center of the rug before the throne and nodded respectfully toward Ahlric. “Great king,” she began. “If it please you, I will speak for my people. When I witnessed the destruction of the forest, I saw two people rejoin the living – Lydria and Wynter. There should have been three. It was Wynter who took an arrow’s point and ended the life of the soldier Cargile who, though wounded, still drew breath. More still, it is my … former …brother Nethyal, who now tends to Wynter and stands by his side. I would, on behalf of the Eifen, like to avenge the pride of our people.”

  Ahlric sat quietly until the motionlessness of the room became uncomfortable. Ahlric and Krieger were used to such tricks to put others off their ease, but Haidrea spoke no more. After long, tense moments the king raised himself up and walked to the back of his throne, resting his fingertips on the low back, and looking down at Krieger, Lydria and the two Eifen women, he smiled, raised his chin and said, “I do not believe you.”

  The guards inched closer, the eight not by the doors fanning out in an arc behind Haidrea and Haustis. Lydria saw a subtle shift of Krieger’s clothing as he prepared to reach for a weapon. The training of Cargile was not lost on Lydria but as she calculated the best way to escape she realized, there was no best way. There was no escape.

  “My lord? Everything we have told you is truth….”

  “Krieger, everything you have told me is rehearsed half-truth. I have other eyes and ears that stretch from the upstart north where Wynter makes his home, to the great Southern Deserts. You have told me true, but you have left out a great deal. What of Wynter’s power? I have heard how he has made food appear to the starving, made stone move with a wave of his hand, and how he has single-handedly made a castle of ice appear from the ground - in a day.

  “Hundreds have labored here for years, and their fathers, and their fathers before them and still my castle is not complete, while a great Cobalt Tower surveys the northern wastes. Is this the work of a madman? There has been no mention of his power that has not also included mention of the Eifen who stands by him day and night. It is also said that Wynter wears an impenetrable collar of blue around his neck.” Ahlric looked to Lydria and his eyes moved to the scarf wrapped around her own neck. “I think these things are connected, don’t you?”

  Ahlric moved his gaze slowly to Haidrea. “I don’t believe you want to harm your ‘former’ brother. I believe you want to join him and take over Bayside and become masters of this land. And you, Haustis. Yes, I’ve heard your name and legend, it is filled with tales of spirits who work on behalf of the Eifen but never on behalf of my people.

  “I may ride north against Wynter, but first I will have you taken in chains until you decide to tell me the other half of your story.” Ahlric nodded to his men.

  The soldiers lowered their spears. Haustis and Haidrea moved down the aisle so that all four were huddled together in front of the king’s throne. Haidrea took Lydria by the wrist moving between the wielder and the wall of blades in front of her. The soldiers had collapsed their arc and formed a tighter line three wide and two deep with a man flanking to either side. The guards by the doors had not moved, but their weapons were raised and ready.

  For a moment the room was deafeningly quiet as everyone considered their next move and it was Haidrea who moved first. Lydria watched as if everything were slowed. A soldier’s spear was already moving toward Haidrea as her right hand reached back to draw a long dagger, her left still gripping Lydria’s wrist. There was a crack and a sucking noise as the soldier’s spear buried itself in Haidrea’s chest. The Eifen’s lithe body was thrown backward, her shoulder crashing into Lydria as a jet of crimson splashed across the spear shaft in front of her.

  “No.” Lydria screamed the word and threw her hand around her friend as the others moved toward the falling warrior. From Lydria’s body a burst of air like a storm wind blew across the throne room scattering soldiers and kings alike into walls. Spears, swords, shields, helmets, anything not a part of the castle was hurled away.

  Krieger and Haustis reached Haidrea and Lydria at the same time, before they all crashed to the floor in a blinding flash of light.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Winter in Solwyn was hard. With the additional population who had moved to be near the security of the Cobalt Tower, work continued unabated as building continued.

  Nethyal chose able men and women to administer the growing kingdom so that he and Wynter could focus on the battles they were certain would come.

  “Would it not be best to fight in the winter, sire?” Nethyal asked. “They would not expect it.”

  “That is true, however it is not my intent to bring the fight to them. Our power is here. Let them drag their provisions across the wastes and meet us on our field.”

  “You know then, that they will come?”

  “Ahlric has spies here and they tell him enough to make him worry. Soon, they will tell him more and make him paranoid.”

  “Spies? You know this? Should we not root these people out and have done with them?”

  “If we were unaware of them, yes, I should say so. But I know who they are and knowing this I can use them to my advantage. In fact, you can help me – I’d like you to go into town tonight and tell the people about your sister and her friend with the green and blue eyes. Specifically, I’d like you tell the people there is another who wears the blue collar of magic, and that she covets the throne of the south.”

  “Why give our enemy news of this weapon?”

  “Because our enemy is a king and a king’s biggest concern is always about remaining king. Ahlric is no different. He has his assassins and spies and he strives to know what goes on beyond his borders. But when he finds out there is someone capable of such power within his borders, he will try to own that person or destroy them. This Lydria and your family, they are not an army, and they know that to be rid of me, they will need one. They will go to Ahlric. We need to be sure we have his ear before they do. With Ahlric looking within, we might buy ourselves an extra year in which to prepare.”

  Nethyal looked at Wynter, sitting on a throne covered in furs and smiled. “I will see that it is done.” He walked away with no more emotion than had he crushed a fly. Nethyal had become indispensable to Wynter’s project and it bothered him to so freely admit this limitation. “I knew he would be necessary to watch over me for a time, but without him now, I would be buried under meeting with villagers, and sorting out petty squabbles.”

  “Is it so bad to need someone, husband?” Wynter let his wife enter his thoughts more often as the cold weather and darkness embraced the north. She was a useful sounding board for his plans and provided a way for him to speak to himself and know his own mind in a different way. She was useful.

  “It’s not bad to need someone. It’s deadly, however, to rely on someone.”

  “You could make him regent and live in your blue tower and plan your conquest of Wesolk. There is no need for you to personally approve of everything – not now.”

  “I have considered such an arrangement, but I need to wander by myself for a time, to see with my own eyes what happens to the south.”

  “Will that not be dangerous?”

  “There is very little to the south, or in any direction, that is a danger to me. Only one person in this world is a danger to me and she must be removed. I made a promise to her.”

  “You made a promise to me…”

  Wynter cut off the conversation. Every time he spoke with her, it ended this way; eventually she spoke as if she were still alive, or she would bring
up some past mistake of Wynter’s hoping to open old wounds. No. Soon, he would travel south – if for no other reason than to see the sun again.

  ***

  To Wynter’s relief spring came early. War would come, even if he had to start one himself. Until then, he engaged his people in the defense of Solwyn. The Eastern and Western Reaches were under new governors and the word from his spies in those lands gave him more hope than he had dared to believe.

  The governors of the Reaches maintained exceptional communication with the earls south of Solwyn and carts of supplies and food were clogging the tracks in either direction. Grettune had taken it upon herself to put men to work building a proper road between Brookside and Solwyn that was wide and well patrolled. The road encouraged the growth of settlements and increased trade and wealth. If his spies were to be believed, everyone was getting along well, and the people were happy. Seeing the utility of Grettune’s road, Wynter at once put men to work on a similar road heading east toward East View.

  “Such roads will make it easier for an approaching army to travel here,” Nethyal said, with a voice that conveyed no concern one way or the other.

  “Indeed, I hope so.” Wynter waited to see if the Eifen would figure out his plan, and when he gave no indication of doing so, he continued, “A kingdom army is a mighty thing, with horses, wagons, provisions, weapons, and men, followed closely by a second army of camp followers, cooks, tinkerers, armorers, wives, harlots – everything you need, in fact, to make war. A road makes marching easy and fast. But mostly, it brings them from a single direction – along a set path where we can disrupt and harass them for miles. In the meantime, the roads make our lives much easier. There hasn’t been an army yet that hasn’t yielded to the temptation of a road.

  “Send word to Grettune that I will begin my tour of the kingdom with the Western Reach and pass on my congratulations on her achievement. We shall call it the Western Governess Road from Brookside to Solwyn, in her honor.”