Severed Empire: Wizard's War (12 page)

“Lower your weapons,” King Nabal said. His voice commanded action. He was not a meek or mild ruler. However, no one responded. In fact, Eadric made a show of fixing his grip on the hilt of the longsword he’d taken off the corpse.

“We came as favor,” Eadric said.

“Kneel before your king,” a Watch said.

Ignoring the Watch, Blodwyn said, “We were here to help you, Your Highness. Not harm you.”

King Nabal motioned for his men to lower their blades. He stepped over a bloodied body. He looked around the room. If he was mortified by the sight of such carnage, he didn’t let it show. With an even voice he said, “Look at it from my point of view, why don’t you? I’m told that the knights captured a wizard, and two criminals. That these crazed men speaking of war between kingdoms are demanding an audience with me. How often do you think I meet with the public one-on-one? If I allowed it my days would be spent counseling couples, and solving ridiculous disputes between the subjects. Whose sheep is defecating on whose grass, whose barn is built on whose property; whose wife is sleeping with whose brother? I’ve no time for such trivialities. I have courts to handle such matters. I have people I trust decide those fates.”

“Forgive me for speaking boldly, Your Highness, but our claim was quite a bit more intense that the trivialities you’ve mentioned,” Blodwyn said.

“Which is why I allowed you access to the castle,” the king said.

“And ambushed us.” Eadric was not as cool at keeping his tone of voice even. Blodwyn and King Nabal had the pleasantries mastered.

King Nabal looked around the room again, only it was more exaggerated this time. His mouth hung slightly open, and he clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a time or two. “And how did that work out for me?”

No one answered.

“You,” King Nabal said, pointing at Mykal. “You admit that you are a wizard? I mean, you have no sword. No knife. There are plenty discarded around you. Instead, you stand there with bare hands pointed at me as if your arms were as sharp as spears. Yes. You must be the wizard.”

Mykal wanted his eyes closed. There was a dull throb behind the sockets. He thought he could hear his brain peel away from the sides of his skull, and plop into blood, and juices and just float free between his ears. “The Mountain King is readying himself for an attack. He has a wizard, no… he has two wizards—”

“Well, which is it? One, or two? How many wizards does he have?” King Nabal laughed. It was slight. More of a snicker. It was a laugh, however, and it annoyed Mykal.

“One is in his employ. One, his prisoner. And he is in the process of summoning three more—”

“Five, then? Cordillera has
five
wizards over there in his castle in the clouds?” King Nabal shook his head, waved his hand around, and again stepped over a corpse in front of his feet. “How can you expect me to believe that? How do I know you are not one of his army of wizards?” He stared directly at Mykal. “He may have sent you here to kill me.”

Mykal regarded the king for a moment. “Are you dead?”

The smug smile on the king’s face froze in place. It was as if for the first time he realized his life could be in some type of jeopardy. He hadn’t witnessed Mykal’s magic only moments ago, but the devastation from the sorcery was all around him. “Are you threatening your king?”

“We are here to warn you,” Mykal said, and added, “Your Highness.”

“And what would you like me to do with the information?” the king asked. His Watch circled around Mykal, Eadric, and Blodwyn.

“We are not your enemy,” Mykal said. “We knew coming here would be a risk. I know how you feel about magic. I put my own freedom, my own life, in danger so I could warn you.”

“It
was
rather foolish,” King Nabal said. “The standing law against magic, magicians, wizards, and sorcery of any kind was enacted by my grandfather, King Grandeer. Some say that the open use of dark arts started the fall of Rye’s empire.

“These two could have delivered the same message. You could have stayed beyond the Grey Ashland border. The outcome would have been more in your favor,” King Nabal said.

“And yet, here I am. I wanted to provide proof. I also wanted to surrender to you my assistance. I am a loyal subject, Your Highness. I was born and raised on these lands. I have always considered you a fair and just ruler. Wise, and well-respected by your subjects,” Mykal said. He knew he laid it on thick. Stroking the ego made more sense. Anyone else might pick up on the somewhat insincerity of the compliments. A king wouldn’t. Royalty was raised to expect that kind of treatment. The way King Nabal looked at him let Mykal know he’d played the hand correctly. For an added effect, Mykal bowed, and lowered himself to one knee. Eadric and Blodwyn kneeled as well.

Pleased with himself, King Nabal motioned for them to rise. “So, am I to understand that rather than lock the three of you away in the dungeons, or better yet, having you hung for your crimes,” Nabal waved a hand over the carnage before him, “and having you,
wizard
, burned at the stake, I am supposed to… what? Place you in charge of my knights? Have you command my Watch? That is highly unlikely.”

Mykal sucked in a deep breath. He felt like he was talking to a stone wall. The man lacked the ability to listen. The king thought because he was king he knew best. There was no room for compromise. It was also a personality fault with having been raised as royalty. Mykal would wager no one ever spoken open or honestly to the king. His ears were more than likely always filled with the words he wanted heard. It was a shame. “Perhaps we were wrong to expect concern on your part,” Mykal said. “We’d hoped saving your subjects was important, saving your land, and this castle meant something.”

“Oh, you were not wrong. I am concerned. You, wizard, are my concern. My people are not in any more danger than Grey Ashland.” King Nabal lost his temper. His tone of voice was higher pitched, and filled with gritty anger. “How dare you come into my castle, kill my men, and talk to me as if you were an equal! Watch, take them away.”

“You don’t want to do that.” Mykal threw out his arms. Balls of blue flames danced on the tips of his fingers.

Eadric and Blodwyn backed up. They faced off in three directions. The Watch closed in on them.

“I believe we have a very serious disconnect, young man. I have been hunting your kind since before you were born. My Watch know exactly how to handle someone with your evil talents. You are under my roof, under my command. You do not tell me what I can or can’t do,” King Nabal said, and yet he made no move to attack. His eyes were transfixed on the blue flames.

“You misunderstand me,” Mykal said. “I am not here to command anything. We are leaving. We have pressing matters that demand our attention. Make no mistake; King Cordillera will be crossing that sea soon. I imagine there will be a fleet of ships on the way. I do not want innocent people harmed, or killed. I am not sure how to state our case any clearer. We are not the enemy. I am not your enemy. We are leaving. You can prepare, or ignore the warning we bring. The choice is yours.”

King Nabal released a short laugh. If the room were empty, the horrid sound might echo off the rock walls. Instead, it fell flat, as if absorbed into the corpses, and drowned in the pools of blood. “Leaving is not an option. The three of you are a danger to the crown, a threat to my subjects—the same ones you absently claim to care so much about. I cannot have you wander loose, either inside the boundaries of my realm, or even beyond. The Watch,” he said, and snapped his fingers.

Mykal didn’t want more violence. He hated it. The killing churned the acids in his stomach. As it was, he did everything he could not to look down at the bodies scattered about. He had higher hopes for this encounter. Perhaps it had been childish to assume the king would respond appropriately. Maybe trying to take them in chains was the way a king should respond? He didn’t know them from enemies.

“Your magic does not throw fear into our hearts the way you expected,” the king said, which were brave words. Yet, no one advanced even a single step. The standoff continued.

“It shouldn’t,” Mykal said. He wished they could have talked. If he had been given a chance to better explain the situation, things might have ended differently. “I pose no threat to you or your men.”

The king snorted. “Tell those lies to the families of these dead soldiers. I’m sure they would believe you, and welcome you into their homes with open arms. Sorcery is from the devil, son. You are a lost soul. Your trickery will only serve to damn those who follow you. That makes you responsible for the lives lost. You. Have you thought about that? Have you considered what you are doing? Who are you to play God with the lives of others? Son, extinguish those flames and lower your arms. Redemption is here. We can have the monks pray over your soul, and with them you can beg for forgiveness.”

“And you’d spare my life?” Mykal said.

King Nabal shook his head. “Oh, no, no. You must be put to death. There is no way around that. My job, my responsibility as the king of Grey Ashland is the protection of the realm. Letting you live goes against all that is required of me as king. If, however, the monks believe you have truly repented and our sorry for your sins, I can assure you the death delivered would be swift, and less painful than burning at a stake.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Eadric said. “There’s nothing evil about your gifts.”

Mykal shook his head. He let his father’s words sink in. His mother was a wizard. She passed the gifts down to him. They were not evil. He was not evil. “King Nabal, we have spent far too much time here. Please, step aside.”

“I cannot do that,” Nabal said.

Mykal said, “I do not want to hurt you, any of you. Please don’t make me.”

King Nabal smiled, and shook his head.

Mykal knew the words spoken would not be encouraging. The time for warnings had come and past. He raised his arms above his head. The blue flames rose and lit the ceiling in a circular pattern. Fire embers dripped down on them. The roar of the growing fire was deafening. Mykal felt the power behind his eyes, and focused his stare on the king.

The Watch looked ready to strike, but stood still, as if enchanted by the fire.

“Fall,” Mykal said. He motioned with his hands. The Watch all fell forward and backward. When they were all down he wished them to sleep. He pushed out with both hands, punching air. A gust shot forward. The wind slammed against the king like a wall. His feet lifted off the floor. His stomach caved inward. Flying backward, the King crashed against the closed and locked door. The impact knocked him out. He crashed onto the floor, and his head fell to the side.

“Mykal,” Blodwyn said, “he’s not…”

“No,” Mykal said. “He’s fine. Let’s get out of here.”

“This won’t be the end of it,” Eadric said, walking toward the king.

“Eadric,” Blodwyn said, “this way.”

They exited the castle through the shattered window. Their boots crunched on the shards of glass. Mykal’s legs wobbled. Blodwyn and Eadric grabbed an arm. They helped him keep his feet. They ran as fast as they could toward the moat.

“I did too much.” Mykal repeated it over and over. His chest felt heavy. It was difficult to breathe. He wanted just to lie down and close his eyes. Sleep was the only thing he could think of. It didn’t matter if they got caught. He needed rest. His body was demanding it.

They stopped when they reached the edge of the moat.

“What was that?” Eadric said.

Mykal forced his eyes open. Everything was blurry. He did see something in the water. A tail, or dorsal fin splashed as the creature swam toward the shadows they cast. They were long, thick, and strong monsters. Poisonous, too. The serpent resembled a giant snake, with several dorsal fins along its spine. Rows of sharp teeth lined a mouth that could easily open wide enough to swallow a man. The one he just saw in the moat did not look as big as the ones he’d encountered in the river. Who was to say there was only one was in the moat?

“They capture serpents from the sea, carry them back on carriages and dump them in the moat,” Blodwyn said. “As Mykal can attest, their dorsal fins are sharp and filled with a paralyzing poison. We can’t risk swimming across. It would prove deadly.”

They didn’t have long. Once King Nabal woke up he’d sound the horns. The knights and Watch would ride together seeking them out. Nowhere would be safe, any longer. Mykal wasn’t worried about living his remaining days as a renegade on the run. It was his grandfather he worried about. He’d actually hoped he’d have had time to stop in and see how he was doing. There was no chance of that now. He hadn’t seen his grandfather in months. The man must be worried to death about him. There had to be a way he could get in touch with his grandfather, if only long enough to ease any worry.

“How are we getting across then?” Eadric kept looking behind them. “There’s no other way. There’s no bridge, except back by the entrance. We don’t want to go back that way. We’d be captured for sure!”

Mykal stared at the water. The sun was out. There were no clouds. The heat on his exposed skin felt good. “I can get us across. Let me stand.”

“You’re not strong enough,” Blodwyn said. “If you continue using this much magic, it could kill you. It will kill you. I can’t have that. I am not going to lose you!”

Mykal shrugged free of their hold. A searing cold built inside his chest and all at once raced forward. “I can do this.”

His thoughts became visible; strands of his own magic spewed out of his body. They swirled out in front of him like octopus tentacles. Before he’d only seen when others used magic. Never his own. He almost doubted his ability, wondering if someone else was casting spells. The cords of color unleashed in front of him were his. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he did. The magic came solely from him. The tendrils whipped this way, and that, and then slapped the top of the moat, as if testing the temperature before slipping under the surface.

The water crystallized, and sounded like glass cracking as it spread in a thick sheet of ice from one bank toward the other. The creature in the water smashed upward, banging a hard head against new ice. The ice held. It did not so much as even crack from the attack. At that, Mykal did not hesitate. He ran across the patch, his boots slid, and he nearly lost his balance. His arms pin-wheeled. He stayed upright and managed to make it from end to end without falling. Once on the other side, he waved his arm, encouraging Blodwyn and Eadric across.