Divided (#1 Divided Destiny) (13 page)

“No options I will consider,” Eleanor stated harshly.

She stood and headed for her balcony. Night had fallen, and the stars were out in full force, bathing her kingdom in a silvery glow. The forest lay in front, the leaves rolling like waves on the ocean. Years of practice meant she could identify the border, where Sintiya ended and Gatlan began. Eleanor promised herself once again that soon that border would be no more. She just had to have patience; a battle not going as expected would only delay the inevitable. Gatlan would be hers, and she would not compromise to get it.

“Time will make Gatlan fall. If we have patience, we will not need to hasten its demise. Perhaps we should begin preparations for our next campaign?” Yannick suggested.

“We have already begun putting pressure on Kaslea. You can’t mean the Northern Kingdoms? If King Oswald is going to drag this out, we will only delay victory further by fighting on two fronts,” Eleanor pointed out, her brow furrowed in a puzzled manner.

Yannick looked at her appraisingly before laughing. “You are right, of course.”

Eleanor shook her head at Yannick’s odd sense of humor. She had known him for a few years now. They had spent a great deal of time together, first with him tutoring her in magic, and then the two of them plotting the campaigns to make her kingdom the largest and most powerful in the realm. However, he seemed to flip between being a clever schemer with plans for power and being an impatient child who lived only to torment others.

She was sure he was quite insane, but for the moment their interests were aligned. When that was no longer true, she would have to act quickly. She had no doubt that he would destroy her when she was no longer useful, so she had to destroy him first. He knew more magic than she did, but she had a legion of knights at her command. Hopefully he wouldn’t expect her betrayal, and she could strike first before he had a chance to muster any kind of defense.

“We should refresh the spells on the dragon, increase the frequency of attacks. Soon, Kaslea will be begging anyone and everyone to save them. The more desperate they are, the more willing they will be to agree to anything their savior demands,” Yannick said silkily. “They aren’t quite desperate enough just yet.”

“Fighting on their border is helping. They are so desperate to not get involved in our war, the fools have no idea they are playing right into our hands.” Eleanor smiled, finally feeling her anger fade away into the night.

Contemplating her successes, imagining the future where she had won, had calmed her as surely as cursing her maids would have done. Kaslea trembled in fear, and they had no idea who was truly responsible for their pain. They didn’t know—and would never know—the lengths she would go to in order to secure their kingdom as part of her own. However, she knew, and she relished the feeling of power it gave her. There was nothing like wielding the power of life and death. It was intoxicating.

“I can see to the dragon spells, if you wish,” Yannick offered. “You do, after all, have a kingdom to run.”

Eleanor frowned. She considered the suggestion for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I will do it myself. I won’t be missed for the short time it will take.”

She could teleport herself to the cave the dragon called home and back to the palace. It would not take long, but even if it did, she did not trust Yannick. They had be-spelled the dragon to attack Kaslea; it would be just as easy for him to alter the spells to turn it against others, and that wasn’t part of the plan.

While the dragon should be indiscriminate, so nobody suspected it was being controlled, a problem shared was a problem halved. The pressure on Kaslea would be relieved if the dragon turned its attention to another kingdom, and she couldn’t have that. Not yet.

There were never any guarantees, especially when dealing with Yannick. She had left a monitoring thread on the spells; if he altered them, then she should feel the change. However, he was a skilled sorcerer, and she had no doubt that if he put his mind to it, he would be able to unravel her spell and leave her none the wiser.

It was more not to put obvious temptation in his path. He could be so impulsive on occasion. Although, given how calculating he was, his actions might have been more considered than they appeared.

“I will let you retire, your Majesty.” Yannick executed a mocking bow and teleported in a flash of flame.

Eleanor sighed and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and focused, willing herself to the dragon’s lair. With a flash of crimson-tinted dark flame, she disappeared from her tower. When she opened her eyes, she was outside the side entrance to the dragon’s cave. It was high up on the mountainside. She shivered. Snow had yet to fall on this part of the mountain, but it was only a matter of time. It was always freezing up here.

She slipped inside the cave entrance. With her right hand, she called forth a ball of flame to illuminate her path. As she crept forward, she reached out to the side of the cave to steady herself, and found that it was slick with condensation and algae. Eleanor wrinkled her nose in distaste and rubbed her hand against her dress. At the back of this cave was an opening to a ledge, towards the back of the much larger cavern the dragon used.

Eleanor looked down. The dragon was in residence; that was good, as she was not in the mood to wait for it. It also appeared to be sleeping; there were little curls of smoke emanating from its nostrils. That made things easier. While she wasn’t afraid of such a beast—she had confidence in her magic—she couldn’t deny that it made her uncomfortable. After all, it was such a filthy, large creature.

In the darkness of the cave, the dragon’s scales looked black, but she knew in the sun they shimmered, iridescent, though if pressed she would say the dominant color was ruby red. The color of fire, fitting for a dragon. She raised her hand, and magic pooled in her palm as she concentrated on the result she wanted. With a flick of her wrist, the magic spiraled out, a long tendril which was absorbed into the dragon’s flank.

Eleanor waited for a moment to make sure the magic was accepted. She was here to renew the spells, not unravel them. The dragon snorted but didn’t move or wake. There was no flash; the magic had sunken in and would start to do its work. The attacks on Kaslea would increase, and when the time was right, she would offer assistance in exchange for control. If Prince Edmund cared about his people, he would have to take the deal.

She moved back to the cave entrance, closed her eyes, and returned to her bedchamber. With a casual wave of her hand, she swapped her tight black dress for her nightclothes. It was a frivolous waste of magic, but she couldn’t undo the gown without her maids’ help. Besides, she had the gift, so she might as well make use of it. There was always something that needed a little extra special attention.

A queen’s work was never done.

*****

The next day, Mathis set out for the border. Leo and Don had been put up in the visiting knights’ quarters. It was a tiny room that barely fit the two beds. Leo hadn’t known what to expect, and so a recognizable bed, raised off the floor with sheets and blankets, had been a nice surprise. However, he’d realized during the night, it was likely raised off the ground in a vain attempt to reduce the bugs and vermin that infested the straw mattress.

They had slept in worse places—a mud hole in the ground, for instance—but it still made his skin crawl and itch. He burned for a shower, but these were positively medieval times, and bathing was something that happened infrequently. They just didn’t have the same attitude towards it. Showers didn’t exist here; a bucket of river water was all that was available, and Leo realized they were lucky to have that.

This might have passed for civilization here, but it was more familiar to Leo and Don as a third world circumstance. People would wash themselves, their clothes, and get their drinking water from the same sources. The town looked clean enough; he had seen no signs of sewage, and remarkably the air was clear and crisp, the salt from the ocean putting a tang on the breeze. However, while the ocean might have helped with the smell, there was no getting around the fact that they had never heard of plumbing.

Mathis had saddled his horse, but as he had the day before, he didn’t mount, relieving the horse of the burden of carrying both the supplies and the armored knight. It also meant he stayed at a walking pace, allowing him to escort Leo and Don as he had promised. The prince had been more than generous in the supplies he had given the two marines. They had mostly taken as many skins of water as was polite, whatever amount they could reasonably carry.

Mathis had raised an eyebrow at how little of the dried food they had accepted, but Leo had his reasons. Food he could hunt for, but clean water was a concern. He carried precious few water purification tablets, and he didn’t want to squander them unnecessarily. If anywhere in this world was going to have clean water, it would be the palace.

They had been traveling for a few hours when it came time to finally part ways. There was a fork in the road; it wasn’t far past the point where Leo had first encountered Mathis the day before.

“I must travel left, to the border lands. You must travel right, and keep north,” Mathis told them. “The sorcerer does not live on the path, but deep into the woods. Keep due north and your mind clear on your purpose, and you will find him.”

Leo gave a wry smile. Clarity of purpose; even more magical smokescreen. They needed more than that to go on. He wasn’t going to trust their mission to magical superstition.

“We’ll be sure to do that. However, just in case, any landmarks we should keep an eye out for?” Leo asked. “Oddly shaped trees, rivers, lakes, rock formations…”

“What’s the sorcerer’s name? What’s his house look like?” Don picked up the questioning.

Leo nodded. That was a good point. While there might not be many dwellings in the woods alone, there were likely some, so they needed to make sure they got the right one. He didn’t want any delays in finding this sorcerer. There was no time for mistakes on this mission.

“You have truly not heard of him?” Mathis looked perplexed. “He is a legend among the people of Kaslea, but I suppose you are from such a faraway land. His name is Cyrus. He is a good sorcerer, reclusive and eccentric. He will help you, but only if you prove worthy.”

“Worthy?” Leo repeated. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

“When the path ends, you must press deeper into the woods. Keep north; you will find him before the forest gives way to the plains. It is less than two days’ journey from here. You will reach the sorcerer before nightfall tomorrow. I can guide you no further,” Mathis explained.

Leo shrugged. They were hardly the directions he’d been hoping for but they would have to do. If this sorcerer, Cyrus, was as much of a legend as Mathis indicated, then if they failed to find him, any citizen of Kaslea should be able to update their directions. He was confident they would find him. Whether they would find what they needed was another matter.

With a respectful nod, Mathis mounted his horse and dug his boots into the horse’s flank. It started forward, increasing in speed to a fast canter, soon swallowed by the surrounding trees. While he didn’t have any specific faith, Leo wished Mathis well and hoped that no misfortune would befall him at the border. He had been nothing but helpful since Leo had stumbled out into the road before his horse. While he wished that Mathis could have guided them further, he was grateful for all he had done.

“Right, off to see the wizard,” Don joked, starting off down the right path.

Leo gave a bark of laughter. “Road’s not yellow enough for that,” he joked back, keeping step with Don.

They settled into a march, at a fast but comfortable pace that they could keep up for hours. He took in a deep breath, relishing the clean air. He had been deployed to some hellholes over the years; this was definitely not one of them, despite their lack of plumbing.

They had been walking for just over an hour when they heard the sound of movement from up ahead. Automatically, Leo gestured to Don, using hand signals that they should take cover in the tree line to the left. They didn’t know who was marching towards them, just out of sight due to the curve of the path.

It wasn’t likely to be a hostile, and hiding off the path would look suspicious if they were caught. However, Leo wasn’t about to bet their safety on everyone being as accepting of them as Mathis had been. They were strangers here, and he felt Mathis’s absence keenly. Accompanied by the knight, no one had given him anything more than a curious glance. He had also had Mathis’s local knowledge to depend on; he would know friend from foe. Not that Leo had any enemies here yet—and he wasn’t looking to make any—but the knights of another kingdom might not see things the same way.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew closer. Leo pressed further into the tree trunk he was sheltering behind. This side of the path went down a steep embankment; crouched down as he was, from this vantage point he could see little beyond knee-height. Into view came a pair of black regulation boots and a leg covered in fatigue pants.

Leo breathed out a sigh of relief. “Ooh-rah!” he called, announcing himself.

He scrambled back onto the path. It was Sergeant Nicholas Carter, from Ortiz’s squad, but that didn’t matter. He was a marine and he was here. That made four of them who had landed near here; the remaining eight had to be somewhere reasonably close. Hope bubbled inside him, an infectious feeling as the relief seemed to spread among the three of them.

“Staff Sergeant Frasier, Sergeant Young,” Sergeant Nicholas Carter greeted. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Likewise,” Leo agreed. “Seeing as we’re on an alien world, formality has kinda flown out the window. It’s Leo and Don. Now, what happened to you?”

Leo gestured to Carter’s chest. He was hunched slightly, his left arm curling around it protectively. The tactical vest was ripped and bloodstained; Leo could just make out the corner of the white gauze wrapping the wound. Clearly he hadn’t had the same charmed welcoming to Kaslea that Leo and Don had enjoyed.