by Guy Antibes
“Don’t you need a magician?” Lister Vale asked.
“I think I might be able to use the magic in the rod,” Trevor said. “If I’m still here after I close my eyes, I only thought I could, and I’ll need a magical boost to my sword and cuirass.”
He tried to teleport and opened his eyes in the stable yard in Khartoo. He grasped the rod and still felt magic coursing through it. His successful trip brought a smile to his face. Trevor didn’t want to have to rely on Win again. That last transfer was rough on both of them.
“Are we ready?” Trevor said as he walked into the inn’s lobby.
“All you have to do is saddle Snowflake. We already packed your bags,” Win said.
Within minutes, they were mounted and left the city. No one knew if the Maskumites were pacified or not. The potentate didn’t leave any heirs, and Potur Lott didn’t have any insight into who or what would rule Khartoo and Maskum. Trevor wondered if Merik’s wife was in line. The four countries that sent armies would leave one thousand men behind to make sure the transition was peaceful.
General Brightwork and General Henkari camped with their forces while they collected provisions for the trek home. They stopped to say farewell.
“We will be heading back to Viksar,” Trevor said. “I’ll be marrying Lissa there.”
Henkari smiled knowingly. “I wondered how long you were going to wait. The sooner, the better, I think.”
“Sooner is good,” Lissa said.
“I will write a commendation to King Worto,” General Brightwork said. “There should be some kind of reward waiting for you in Listenwell.”
“No reward is needed, but a written thank you would be nice,” Trevor said. He’d hang it in his study as a reminder that, in a way, Desolation Boxster had finally prevailed in Brachia.
Potur Lott walked up. “Good job, Arcwin,” the scout said. “You lived up to your title, messenger.”
Trevor didn’t know about that, but he knew he had tried his hardest and hadn’t felt the least bit guilty about killing Plissaki. That was another death that he considered required to give something back to Boxster’s memory.
They left the camp and headed north. When they stopped to rest, Trevor took Lissa by the hand. “We have something to do, but don’t leave without us,” he said to the others.
They appeared in front of the seer’s church in Jiksara. Lissa took Trevor’s hand as they stepped inside, looking for Seer Caspur.
“The conquering heroes, I hope?” the seer said as he found the couple sitting on a bench at the side of the church.
“Father, I have something to tell you,” she said.
Trevor stood. “We have something to say.”
“Marriage? Don’t be worried. You both have my blessing,” Seer Caspur said.
Lissa almost fainted with relief as Trevor felt her relax next to him when her father made the proclamation.
“When and where are you getting married?” Caspur asked.
“We will be traveling with Volst, Win, Glynna, and Custik,” Trevor said. We will be waiting for Brother Yvan to arrive from Ginster.”
“Then I will make what arrangements I can from my side. There are plenty of people who will want to see my only daughter marry a duke of Brachia—Dryden’s messenger.
“The duke part is better,” Trevor said. “I have a house big enough for you to visit as long as you’d like in Listenwell.”
“That sounds enticing,” Caspur said. “You are leaving me soon?”
Lissa nodded. “I didn’t want to wait to tell you, and since Trevor can move around quickly, we decided to let you know immediately.”
“And the war went well?”
Trevor frowned. “As well as wars can go.” He gave Caspur a brief description. “Lissa served as a healer with Brother Yvan and Glynna.”
“That is better than fighting at your side, for me anyway,” the seer said. “Stay safe on your journey to Jiksara.”
Trevor grasped Lissa’s hand and held it up for Caspur to see. “I will.”
The next moment, they had returned to the clearing where his friends were cleaning up from a quick meal. “I saved something for both of you to eat while we ride,” Win said.
They spent almost a week in Maskum before skirting the Jarkanese plains on their way through Kyria. They caught up to a detachment of Kyrian troops returning home from Khartoo and were guests at an impromptu feast by the soldiers. They reached the Viksar border a few days later.
Trevor could sense all of his friends were more than relieved to be back in their home country. Volst led them unerringly to an inn that served Zinkel’s ale, and they spent a raucous evening celebrating their return to Viksar. Trevor could see that Lissa looked more nervous as they drew closer to Jiksara.
They finally passed under the south gate, and all of them cheered except for Lissa and Trevor. Win left them not far from the city center to return to Siranda.
Trevor was happy that he could ride Snowflake all the way from the southern tip of the world, and now he had returned Lissa safely to her home. He grimaced and thought perhaps not too safe.
“Have you heard from Brother Yvan?” Lissa asked her father.
“He will arrive tomorrow if I’m not out of tune,” Seer Caspur said. “Come to my private dining room. I have the space for all of you here in the church if you don’t want to stay at an inn.”
“Win Fenton was with us, but his wife still lives in Jiksara,” Lissa said.
“That will just mean more food and ale for the rest of us.” Volst patted his stomach.
Trevor knew he was joking, and they enjoyed a meal with Trevor’s future father-in-law. Lissa continued to look a little anxious about the wedding, but so was he.
Chapter Thirty
~
B rother Yvan and Reena arrived in a carriage and stayed at an inn. Trevor was happy to have his long-time mentor at his wedding. Brother Yvan sat with Reena and next to Win and Siranda at the wedding. The ceremony was to be a straightforward service, but the church was filled with the seer’s friends. Trevor even spotted Hamel Rorsik in the crowd, sitting close to Glynna’s sister and her husband.
Lissa looked beautiful in a light blue gown, walking toward Trevor, who waited at the church’s front. Singers, unusual for any kind of Dryden service, colored the air with a beautiful song Trevor had never heard. Lissa’s smile beamed in the shafts of light that lit up the space. Seer Caspur raised his hands to stop the singers and conducted the short exchange of wedding vows. Suddenly, it was over, and Trevor was a married man.
Walking through the well-wishers who crowded around them as they walked down the central aisle to the church’s entrance took forever in Trevor’s mind. He barely remembered what he heard anyone say and nothing of what he said to others. Finally, they emerged on a sunny day. Trevor took a deep breath. Life had taken a delightful change. He wished Desolation Boxster was there to share it with him, and fleetingly, had wanted to his late youngest brother, Renny, there to brighten things up.
They left the church, entering a decorated hired carriage for a night at the best inn that Jiksara had to offer. When Trevor got there, he was disappointed the inn didn’t serve Zinkel’s ale.
“I’m sure you can handle it, dear,” Lissa said, her hand on Trevor’s wrist in the inn’s posh dining room.
“As long as I can handle you,” Trevor said with a smile.
Lissa assumed a mock shocked look. “That might not be a nice thing to say.”
“We will see a bit later,” Trevor said.
After a very fancy and very expensive meal, Trevor took Lissa up to their room. It was much larger than they needed.
Trevor frowned. “No barrier tonight?”
“No barrier again,” Lissa said, “unless you don’t behave.”
“Then I reserve the right to do the same,” Trevor said. “Isn’t that fair?”
“We will see what is fair…”
The pair enjoyed themselves as they had never done before,
but as they slumbered in the early morning hours, Trevor woke to the sound of something creaking in the room. The Jarkanese sword that had served Trevor so faithfully was sitting on the bed in his room at Caspur’s church. However, not trusting to chance, he pulled out the ancient rod, thankful that he could feel the magic.
Unfortunately, neither he nor his new wife had any clothes on, putting him at a distinct disadvantage since his Jarkanese sword sat next to his ancient leather cuirass. Trevor kept his eyes partially closed in the gloom as he grunted and turned toward the intruders as he tried to come up with a strategy.
Trevor didn’t know how many attackers there were in the room, but he had quickly determined there were at least two. He wanted to teleport elsewhere but being without clothes made him hesitate. Trevor decided he had waited enough. Bolts of lightning and tongues of fire erupted from four different vantage points. A stray tongue of fire hit Lissa’s side. He wrapped her in the sheet and pushed her off the bed to the opposite side from the assailants before rolled across to the other side of the room.
Trevor had to put Lissa out of his mind as he pointed the rod at the attackers in order of their proximity to Lissa and began shooting red rays. As flames began to catch on the wood and the cloth in the room, Trevor counted two more attackers. None of them could break through Trevor’s immunity, but Trevor needed information, so he bludgeoned one of the men unconscious with the rod. He ran to the side of the bed. The fire had already begun to burn the sheet that covered Lissa. Trevor only had time to make sure she was still breathing. Trevor could not deal with any injuries here. He brushed off the flames as best he could and took her to the unconscious assailant. Putting a foot on the assassin’s face, he took both unconscious bodies, to the seer’s dining room.
Trevor ran to the sideboard and grabbed a pitcher of water that helped him extinguish some flames. He rolled Lissa up in a rug. Once he was satisfied the flames were out, he unrolled her and covered Lissa with the tablecloth off the table. Tying up the assassin, he realized that he was unclothed, as well. Trevor quickly looked in the sideboard, and finding another tablecloth, wrapped it around him.
Volst showed up with a few clerics, and Lissa soon recovered consciousness. Volst looked over the prisoner while Trevor took her to his dormitory cell for treatment of her burns. He threw his diving outfit on and returned to the dining room, passing Glynna on her way to Lissa. The assassin sat against the wall with the point of Volst’s sword pressed against the man’s throat.
Glynna walked back into the room. “I’ll need more bandages,” she said.
“Touch him, please,” Trevor asked Glynna. “I’d use Lissa, but she isn’t up to this.”
Glynna knelt next to the attacker and put her hand on the man’s neck. She concentrated and then withdrew her hand.
“He is a Jiksaran, but I saw him paid by a Presidonian agent giving the band of assassins instructions to kill you, Trevor.”
“My mother!”
Glynna nodded. “I could feel her malice through the scene that I saw. Perhaps having a public wedding with so much notice wasn’t the best idea.”
“Is the agent still in Jiksara?” Trevor asked.
Glynna shook her head. “You know I can’t tell the present, just the past. I need to return to her,” she said with napkins in her hands.
Trevor sat down heavily on one of the dining room chairs. He wanted to run back to see how Lissa fared, but the seer rushed in and stared at the assailant on the floor.
“Who is he?” Seer Caspur asked.
“One of six assassins,” Trevor said. “They were all magicians and started throwing around fire and lightning. Lissa was burned and is being treated by Glynna. The others didn’t make it out of the room. I knocked this one out and brought him along for questioning. My mother, the queen, is thrilled I got married, it appears.”
Caspur sat on another of the chairs. “The public wedding…” he said, putting his head in his hands.
Trevor nodded. “The wedding was beautiful,” he said.
Lissa walked into the room, assisted by Glynna. “It was,” she said. Salve covered the right side of her face. Her right hand was bandaged, and Lissa was still wrapped up in the tablecloth, but Glynna had made it look like the dress of a goddess, or so Trevor thought.
“She will be fine, but there will be no travel for a few weeks. She will have some tender skin to deal with until it heals,” Glynna said.
Trevor was happy her face looked intact under the salve.
“You need to go to Tarviston,” Lissa said to Trevor. “We can’t let your mother continue attacking you.”
“And you,” Trevor said.
Lissa shook her head gently. “I wasn’t the target. I think it is time for Dryden’s messenger to deliver something to the ruler of Presidon. I think you can convince the rulers of Viksar and Ginster to invade Presidon. Perhaps West Moreton will join you.”
“I don’t want to start a war,” Trevor said. “I’m sure Dryden doesn’t want one either.”
Volst shrugged. “Who knows?”
“The messenger does,” Trevor said. Presidon wasn’t a world problem, just a personal one. “I’ll take Win with me if he will come. He’ll want to see his mother, anyway,” Trevor said.
“Brother Yvan and Reena might agree to take me in their carriage to Jilgrath, where Gorian and Glynna can help me recover,” Lissa said. “I’ve already talked to Glynna in case you agreed to put an end to all this.”
“But I haven’t agreed,” Trevor said. “I’m not worried about me but, but I don’t know.” He shuddered. “I’ve never wanted the confrontation,” he confessed.
Seer Caspur shook his head. “I believe that you need to seal the past, and that means dealing with your mother. You have to think of my daughter and, eventually, your whole family.”
Trevor had to admit that he was afraid of going home and had been ever since Desolation Boxster had been murdered at the northwestern border with Viksar. What would Boxster do? Trevor thought, and he quickly received his answer.
“All right. If Win agrees, we will head east from here,” Trevor said. “Win and I will return directly to Jilgrath.”
“Return to the house on the green that you used while you were in town,” Glynna said. “Gorian and I will stay there with Lissa.”
Trevor couldn’t back down now. After sleeping in another cell through the morning, he spent the rest of the day preparing for his trip. Win showed up and eagerly agreed to come along.
“I wish I could take Siranda, but that time will come. We’ve talked about returning to Presidon often enough, but Azar always cautioned me that your mother was my enemy as well as yours.”
Chapter Thirty-One
~
W in and Trevor left Jiksara, heading east, taking the same path through the gold mining valley where Trevor had fought two battles. Mining had returned to the high valley, and Win and Trevor quickly traversed the mountainous area heading directly east to Presidon.
It had been a long time since Trevor had been on the eastern side of his home country. The territory was split into dukedoms, and Trevor didn’t have any idea about existing alliances, but King Henry had always given his nobles a lot of leeway in handling their domains. In that, King Worto was similar in managing his aristocracy to Trevor’s father.
He stayed to the main road through the east and entered Presidon using Volst’s name and identity papers. Win had documents with his wife’s last name of Zutterak instead of Fenton. They stayed at a nondescript inn on the southern side of a small town. Trevor took care of Snowflake at the shabby stable.
“We are two out-of-work warriors,” Trevor told the old stablemaster. “Once the Maskumites were defeated, we were cut out. The Viksarans didn’t even give us a bonus.” Trevor continued to complain until it was plain the stablemaster didn’t want to hear anymore.
Trevor shared a room, and they had to put clean sheets on their beds themselves. “There won’t be Zinkel’s ale here,” Trevor said.
Win smiled. “You and your Zinkel’s ale. The world doesn’t revolve around that stuff. Siranda and I usually drink fruity wine. She’s gotten me hooked on the stuff.
“You won’t find any of that here either,” Trevor said. “I’d guess most of what they sell in this inn is halfway to vinegar.”
“Then we should find a pub. You’d like to know what’s happened to Presidon in the past two years, wouldn’t you?”
“It’s almost been that long,” Trevor said. “It seems like two decades, sometimes.” He stood. “Let’s find a suitable drinking establishment.”
They walked through the town’s streets in the middle of the afternoon and arrived at the town square, where they spotted a decent-looking place. The pair of them sat down and ordered some ale.
Trevor took a long pull on the mug. “It isn’t Zinkel’s, but it is definitely Presidonian-made. It reminds me of home.”
“We are home,” Win said quietly.
Trevor pursed his lips. “We are, aren’t we?” He looked around the pub and felt comfortable. Presidon had a feel all its own, like every country, he had learned. “I suppose I should relish this visit,” he said. “For some reason, I’m still not at ease.”
“And I won’t be either until I see my mother,” Win said.
Trevor nodded. A group of men dressed more like merchants entered the pub and sat down next to them. Win ordered lamb stew for both of them along with a loaf of their freshest bread. Trevor hoped it would be fresh, anyway. He leaned back, taking a swig of ale, and listened. The men seemed to be in a complaining mood when their drinks were delivered.
“Another Dryden-damned tax!” one of them began. “This time, Hyra included shoes. I wonder what burr got under the queen’s saddle this time. My profits will be cut in half with this one.”
Another nodded. “I know what you mean. I hope Princess Lilith will bring Queen Hyra to her senses yet again. If it wasn’t for the daughter, I’m sure there would be a revolt.”
