by Jaxon Reed
Loadstone said, “Brilliant! A combination of trap spells. As he escapes one, a new one generates and he has to start over again.”
Mita flew down and landed beside them, at last catching up to her spell. She said, “Thanks. I thought it up as I was flying over. Never tried it before.”
FOOM!
A larger explosion of light lit up the clearing. Darkstone emerged angry this time, his hair and beard tousled, his ragged robe torn worse than usual, and his eyes blood-shot with a murderous look on his face.
Redstone said to Mita, “Don’t feel bad. Yours held him longer than ours did.”
Darkstone said, “Now you’re going to pay, Battlemaiden. I devised this spell just for you.”
He stretched out his staff and three nasty black balls of light shot out. One sailed toward Mita, the other two for Redstone and Loadstone.
17
Thanden was already asleep, sprawled out on the table. Endrick felt sleepy himself. He stifled a yawn as Darkstone began his Spell of Projection. He watched, bored, as the wizard danced and gesticulated, then shouted at somebody only he could see and hear. Darkstone demanded to know where the other wizards were, and swept his arms in a wide arc, obviously causing something magical to occur at wherever he was projecting himself.
Endrick started to doze off.
When Darkstone cried out in alarm, Endrick snapped awake. Darkstone screamed and . . . melted. It seemed almost like his body became smoke, only thicker. But it melted and flowed toward a point in the center of the table, a hole in the air that seemed to suck in the smoky, liquid body.
Then, Darkstone was gone. Endrick jumped up and ran to where the wizard had been standing. But there were no traces of him anywhere. He looked down at the table and spied Thanden, who had slept through it all.
“Get up!”
Endrick swiped at the sprite’s tiny body, sending him flying across the room to splat against the wall. Thanden slid down to the floor, landing in a pile. Tiny stars appeared, rapidly circling his head.
Endrick said, “Where did he go?” He stomped over and towered above the tiny sprite. “He was right here, then something sucked him out of the room!”
Jumping up, an expression of alarm on his face, Thanden ran under the table and made a show of looking under each chair.
“He’s not here, I tell you! Something took him forcibly and by magic.”
Thanden held an elbow with one hand and rubbed his chin with the other, looking up in a corner of the room.
“Don’t just stand there, go find him! You always seem to know where he is. Find him and bring him back!”
The little sprite smiled broadly, clapped his hands and jumped up and down. He poked his chest with a thumb and nodded confidently at Endrick. Then he jumped up into the air and flew in a slow and crooked path out the window.
Endrick sat back down in a chair and slumped in defeat. All thoughts of puppetry, malice, and envy left him, all boredom and irritation now long gone. In their place, he felt a growing sense of dread, like a soldier going into battle who has just lost his sword.
He slammed his fist on the table and said, “Someone has stolen my wizard!”
-+-
All the time of growing comfort with the assembled metal men standing on their streets just went out the window, Trant thought.
The animus spell Greystone gave the metal men relit the lights in their hollow heads, making their eyes glow. Each contraption stood straight now and slowly marched out of the village, sending everybody in the street running for their lives. Greystone flew above them, making sure they followed his directions.
When the final one marched out of the hidden village’s magical gateway into the forest clearing, they all stopped, arranged in a perfect line, all 62 of them.
Trant sat astride a large roan, wearing the brilliant green colors of Emerald. Ten thousand soldiers stood behind him, or sat in their own saddles if they rode. All wore the orange-red leather armor of Coral. Their numbers seemed far more than necessary, in his opinion. He had a wizard and an army of 62 metal men, after all. But King Keel, his future father-in-law, insisted on loaning him nearly half his army.
“Always attack with superior numbers,” Keel had said to him. Trant stopped arguing when Greystone mentioned the visible support of his ally would send a powerful message to the Emeraldians. The wizard had a point. Feeding 10,000 men was another matter entirely, but Greystone did not seem worried on that point, so Trant tried not to worry, either.
And that’s how I found myself in charge of an entire division of Coralian ground forces, he thought. He looked back at his three field marshals, leaders who would pass down his orders and be responsible for their execution.
He said, “We march behind the metal men. We’ll let them scare the enemy, and hopefully take out as many that want to fight us as they can. Let’s let the iron boys do the hard work for us.”
The field marshals smiled and nodded before passing on his words.
I’m sure that’ll be a popular idea, Trant thought. No sense dying in a foreign country for a displaced sovereign you hardly know. Not if you don’t have to.
Trant waved up at the wizard, still floating in the air. Greystone waved back, then turned and cast a large globe of transport. The giant hazy ball of yellow light appeared in the field at ground level, slowly rotating. The wizard made a motion toward the metal men, and they began marching into the globe, disappearing one by one.
-+-
A farmer walked down the road from Kathar, Emerald’s capital. His cart rolled empty, his entire load of fruit having sold at the market that morning. All told, he had profited quite handsomely. Food was in short supply in Kathar, and his modest selection brought in a heavy handful of silver rather than the more typical purse of copper they usually fetched.
Thus, well before lunch, he had departed the marketplace and led his cow out of the city with the empty cart trundling behind her. The farmer plodded forward, the rope around the neck of his cow hanging loose between them.
A giant hazy ball of yellow light suddenly appeared in the middle of the road. Startled, the farmer stopped. His eyes grew wide in wonder. The cow poked her head around his side to look, too.
The ground shook, and a giant metal man, 30 paces tall, tromped through the hazy yellow light, bearing straight down the road for him. Eyes in its cylindrical head glowed with an unnatural light. Behind it, another metal man stepped out of the globe, and another.
The farmer looked at his cow, his mouth wide open. He turned toward the side of the road and pulled on her rope, leading her out of the way of a now seemingly endless line of marching monstrosities.
The long line of metal men, over threescore the farmer reckoned, finally made it all through the yellow hazy light. Then a wizard flew through. He motioned with his staff and metal men lined up in formation, now covering area on both sides of the road. They continued marching toward Kathar.
“You seen it, Bess,” the farmer said to his cow. “Tin giants, and then a flyin’ man! How I wished you could talk. M’wife Gertrude will ne’er believe me!”
A fine young man astride a white horse rode through the light next, wearing the royal colors of Emerald. He was followed quickly by three equally resplendent warriors, clad in red-orange leather. The man in green said to them, “Have your battalions line up behind the metal men and prepare to march.”
The men in leather saluted, then stepped out of the way as wave after wave of soldiers came through, some on horseback, but most on foot.
While the leaders worked on sorting the men out, the man in green spied the farmer staring with his mouth wide open. He smiled and nudged his horse over to the spot beside the road where the farmer and his cow stood watching.
“I’m Trant, son of Tren and Karla. I’ve come to take back the throne from Endrick.”
The farmer stared at him, mute, his mouth hanging open.
Trant smiled and pointed further off to the side of the road. He said, “If you�
��re willing to walk cross country for a bit, you can pass the transport globe and continue on your way. I regret the inconvenience we seem to have caused you.”
The farmer’s mouth closed and his brows furrowed in confusion. Finding his voice, he said, “A king regrets causin’ me trouble? Beggin’ yer pardon, Sire, but that don’t seem right. I’s just a common farmer, of no concern to Yer Grace.”
Trant smiled and said, “I think you’ll find me quite the different ruler than you’re used to. Go back home and tell everyone the rightful heir to the throne is here at last. And in my kingdom, everyone is important and to be treated well. Even common farmers.”
Trant gave him a final smile, then reined his horse back toward the soldiers and metal men.
The farmer closed his mouth, gave his cow one last disbelieving look, then slowly led her in the direction Trant had pointed out.
He said, “We’d stay an’ watch some more, Bess, but I gots to get home an’ tell Gert all abouts this. Metal men. Flyin’ men. An’ kings talkin’ to farmers! In all my days I ne’er reckoned I’d talk to a king. Now ol’ Endrick, that suited me jus’ fine not talkin’ to that rat bastard. But this fella here seemed mighty nice. Dandiest outfit I e’er seen on a man. And that horse! That horse was worth more than our farm, I’d wager. A right fine warhorse that was . . .”
He continued talking to the cow as they made their way around the hazy transport globe and headed back down the road.
“Ain’t nobody gonna believe me. The King talked to me . . . Wish you could talk, Bess. They’re gonna laugh when I tell ’em. You could have my back, if you could talk.”
-+-
Mita said, “Get away!”
She cast spells of suspended animation, barrier, and ice. Darkstone’s black balls of light slowed to a crawl, but never stopped completely. They each came for their target with an inexorable will.
Redstone cast a series of spells on the one inching toward him. Loadstone tried the same sphere trap that had held Darkstone momentarily, but the globe coming for him passed right through it, unfazed.
Mita said to them, “Leave! I’ll handle this. You both need to put some distance between yourself and these things.”
Redstone snorted. He said, “We’re not going anywhere, lass.”
“Then you’ll die here!” Darkstone said.
He lobbed a spell at them while they were distracted, sending powerful streaks of energy from his staff, striking all three at once. Mita slammed up against a large tree and slid down to the ground. Redstone went head over heels, rolling backward into the woods. Loadstone flew back and landed on his butt. The black balls of light sped back up as they fell. Loadstone stood quickly and cast spells of suspended animation on all three globes.
Mita stood up, her magical armor spreading across her head and face. The globes slowed to a crawl again, each slowly floating toward their prey.
“Get him,” Loadstone said. “We can handle these parlor tricks.”
“Parlor tricks?” Darkstone said. “These are Globes of Doom, fool. Once cast they cannot be stopped. They will consume their target. One of Lok’s better spells.”
Loadstone ignored him, casting enchantments at the black globe floating toward him. Darkstone laughed at him, delighting in the futile efforts.
“Erk!”
Darkstone tumbled to the ground with Mita on top of him. She had flown up and around the clearing. So focused on the impending demise of the wizards, Darkstone never saw her swoop in from behind.
She stabbed him three times in the kidneys with a blade.
THOOM!
She flew off him, carried by his Spell of Expulsion, landing on her back several paces away. He quickly ran his hand over his back, healing himself. He pointed at her globe and it sped off after. She jumped off the ground and flew straight up before it could reach her. The globe pursued, steadily gaining on her.
High in the air, she turned around and shot spells of stasis and disambulation at the globe, slowing it again, then she flew back down to the clearing.
Darkstone was ready for her this time, a translucent blue globe of protection surrounding him to prevent any more knife attacks. He sent bolts of wizard fire up at her. She dodged them easily, and shot her own back at him. He danced away as they churned up the ground where he’d been standing. One touched the edge of his blue globe, sending up sparks.
Redstone recovered, and made a wide berth around his black ball, still inching perceptibly toward him. He stopped and watched Loadstone stepping back, shooting spell after spell into his own ball with little results.
Redstone said, “By the High Tower, haven’t you figure out how to stop these things yet?”
“It’s not so easy,” Loadstone said, casting another barrier spell. “You haven’t been much help, either.”
“Why do I have to do everything? Just cast that time trap on the infernal thing and be done with it.”
Loadstone’s eyebrows shot up. He said, “You are good for something, after all.”
He stepped back to give himself some room, then concentrated as his arms circled. He ended by thrusting them out at the black ball of light. Instantly it became surrounded by a larger globe of purple light. At long last it stopped moving.
Loadstone shared a smile with Redstone. The orange-haired wizard said, “Do mine! And don’t forget Mita’s.”
While Loadstone concentrated on the complex spells for the other two balls, Redstone turned his attention to the fight. Mita and Darkstone flew in circles above the clearing, casting spell after spell at one another. He said, “Hurry up, old man. You’ve gotta see this!”
-+-
A cry went up from the walls of Kathar as the metal men approached. Soldiers raced along the top and scrambled for a better look. They recognized the “living statues” as some had called them. Many had seem them march out the gate months ago on the wizard’s quest to battle. But they had not been seen since.
At first, confusion reigned as some claimed the wizard directing them had to be Darkstone. But as they grew closer, it became increasingly evident everything headed their way was not friendly. The troops behind the metal men clearly were clad in the colors of Coral. But one man in Emerald green rode at the front of the procession.
The Captain of the Gate took charge. “Man the ramparts!” he said. “Mind the walls! Archers in position! Ready the catapults!”
In minutes Kathar’s defenses were as well prepared as possible for assault.
The line of metal men stopped before the wall, equally spread out on either side of the road, the Coralian army behind them. The man in green rode on a white horse between the giants and approached the gate.
He pulled up short, and locked confident eyes with the captain up on the wall, who wondered about his courage. Or stupidity, the captain wasn’t sure which. At least three dozen archers had nocked arrows aimed at him that very moment.
Then the captain noticed the wizard hovering in the air above the metal men and decided the man in green was not as vulnerable as he appeared. A wizard changed everything. And this wizard was certainly not Darkstone, who usually dressed in tattered rags. This wizard had a blondish beard, and his appearance looked well-kempt even from a distance.
When the man in green spoke, his voice was magically amplified, no doubt from the wizard. His words echoed across the wall, and all the defending soldiers could easily hear him.
“I am Trant, son of Tren and Karla. I am here to take back the throne.”
The captain stepped back, stunned. He was old enough to remember King Tren. Rumors his heir lived and would return someday had oft been told. In fact, more than one prophet had mentioned this very moment would come to pass.
He glanced at the men to his right and left. Some carried doubt in their eyes, some resolve. The question of the city gates fell to him. Even more important, how much resistance to offer, if any, lay in his lap. The men looked toward him, waiting his response.
“Stand down.”
; A sigh spread among the men. Relief for some, disappointment for others. Runners hurried along the top of the wall to spread the word.
One of his soldiers said, “You sure about this, Captain Stivvins?”
Stivvins nodded. He said, “This is the moment that was prophecied for years, soldier. Besides, do you really want to go up against all of that,” he waved at the metal men and the Coralian army, “and a wizard to boot? Let Endrick and Darkstone put up resistance if they want. I won’t lose any blood, especially if that’s our rightful monarch down there.”
Tension evaporated from the city walls as word spread. Stivvins had the gate opened and the porticullis raised. Trant entered the city on his resplendant white horse, followed by the metal men, one by one. Word spread fast, and crowds lined the street to watch.
Trant’s horse made its way up the hill toward the palace in the middle of the city. He took note of the people as he passed. Some gazed at him with curiousity. A few looked at him with scorn. But most regarded him with hope kindling in their eyes. He noticed several children running around with no shoes, even though the mornings were still cool. Many were dressed in soiled clothes. He noticed rips and tears and hastily sewn patches. Most of all he could feel the heavy weight of despondency in the air. Kathar was not a joyful place. Perhaps his presence could change that, he thought.
-+-
A guard burst into the throne room, interrupting Endrick who was busy berating a representative from the Blacksmiths Guild. Endrick glared at the man, who hurried to the throne and made a cursory bow.
“Begging Your Highness’s pardon, but we’ve been invaded!”
Endrick’s expression changed from one of annoyance to concern. He said, “What do you mean, invaded?”
“A man calling himself Trant, son of Tren, is leading an army from Coral into the city this very minute. And another wizard is with him. He’s turned Darkstone’s metal men, and they march with Trant!”
