Severed Empire: Wizard's War (39 page)

Mykal never wanted to kill anyone.

That was never his intent.

They had been attacked by the Watchers, and had merely defended themselves.

His powers were still very new. He did not realize how to control them at the time. He might not understand it now, but he knew he was better with his magic than he had been. The king was right, his assessment accurate, though. “I understand.”

“You understand,” the king said. He sounded as if he was mocking Mykal’s simple response. “Good. I’m glad you understand. I want you to understand. I don’t want any misrepresentation taking place here. Fine. You understand. Then we have an agreement? After this comes to a conclusion you will stand trial for the crimes against this kingdom?”

“I will, Your Highness.”

“Mykal!” Blodwyn said.

Mykal held up a hand. “It’s all right, Wyn. The king has done nothing but speak the truth, as he knows it. I will have my chance to provide facts during the trial.”

The king laughed.

“There will be a trial?” Mykal said.

“A just and fair trial,” the king responded. “We’re good, then?”

“We are good,” Mykal said.

The king watched their brief exchange, and then after a moment nodded his head. “Very well.”

A member of the Watch, burst into the tent. “Sire, an Osiris ship has forced its way past the Voyagers. She’s got the wind in her sails. She’s coming up on the Cove, fast.”

“They made it past the Voyagers?” the king said, the disbelief was evident in his tone of voice.

Mykal wondered if the king actually hoped the Voyagers would fight and end the war before any battles even reached his lands. “The Mountain King must be on
that
vessel,” he said.

Magic might not be the only way to win a fight on the sea against the Voyagers, but it was the most likely way to accomplish the task.

Chapter 37

King Nabal stepped out of the tent. He had his left arm draped across his chest, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He breathed in deeply, and when he exhaled plumes shot out of his nostrils. His knights, on horseback and on foot, stood at the ready with weapons drawn.

The Delta Cove, just ahead, would be Nabal’s first line of defense; keeping King Cordillera from reaching the west bank, the ultimate goal. If the eastern king stormed the cove…

Mykal shook his head, as if pushing the thoughts out of his mind eliminated the chance of a coup.

On the sea, two vessels made their way toward the docks. They rose and fell on the waves. Although the storm had ended, the water was turbulent, violent. The lowered sails were full of wind, and cut across the sea with ease.

Mykal and Blodwyn stood beside each other taking everything in. “I’ve never seen the like,” Mykal said.

“War is ugly,” Blodwyn said.

Nabal turned around. “I want you on the front line.”

Blodwyn grabbed Mykal’s arm. “No.”

Nabal arched an eyebrow.

Mykal shrugged free, patting Blodwyn’s shoulder. “We will stand in front. I should be one of the first people to encounter the king. Maybe we can end this fast, with minimal casualties.” It was little more than hopeful thinking. Mykal needed something to grasp onto, or else he feared he might come unraveled. “But I want your Watch right there with us.”

The king’s Watch was the elite.

King Nabal nodded in agreement. “They will stand with you.”

An eerie silence fell over the men, but in uniform the knights parted, their armor clinked and clanked, as Mykal and Blodwyn walked past them.

The freshly fallen snow had been trampled into mud. The bottoms of boots, the ends of capes and cloaks were soiled. Armor footwear made balance very tricky. Footing was slick.

Mykal’s heart beat in time with each step he took.

His fear grew, but was clouded by rage. The confidence he exhibited had nothing to do with faith in his ability.

When he reached the front line, the knights, and Watch, fell in step behind him. Blodwyn stayed at his side. Without pause, together, they led the soldiers toward the small inlet. The rough sea crashed onto the docks. Small fishing boats not given enough line secured in their slot were smashed, and had sunk during the storm.

As they fanned out, preparing for battle, Mykal stared at the approaching ships. “I am not sure I can beat him.”

Blodwyn didn’t respond. He tapped the end of his staff on to the ground, and like Mykal, watched the vessels on the sea, back lit by other ships burning in the morning light.

Mykal studied the lines in Blodwyn’s face. They were clear, and deep in the rising sunlight. His brows were thick, and furrowed toward the bridge of his nose. “You’re not going to tell me I’m wrong? That I can do it? That if anyone can beat him, I can?”

Blodwyn continued tapping the end of his staff, but lowered his head and looked down at the ground.

Mykal said, “I was hoping—”

“That’s not how life works, Mykal. We’re at the front lines, at the onset of a war. Your magic is amazing. I have never seen anything like it in all of my days. I’ve spent the better part of your life teaching you how to defend yourself with swords, and daggers. With your hands in in close combat. Turns out, you didn’t even need it.”

Mykal unsheathed his Jian sword.

Blodwyn cast a sideways glance at the weapon. “You’ve not used that weapon in a while. With your magic, I am not sure you need it any longer.”

“This is my favorite weapon. We spent countless days practicing with it.”

“Years.”

“Countless years.” Mykal smiled. “I know how to use it. I consider this special sword to be part of me. Everything you’ve ever taught me, and I am not just referring to self-defense, you know, but everything… I have you to thank for that.”

“It’s not about thanking me. I’m not looking for acknowledgment, or a pat on the back for a job well-done, son. We stand here ready to fight to the death if necessary, and I don’t have anything helpful to say, because this is new to me.” Blodwyn looked up, and around. “I don’t know who the stronger wizard is. I don’t know how wizards fight. I’ve never trained you for a battle like this, because I have never fought a battle like it. I want to tell you that you are the more powerful sorcerer, that if anyone can defeat the Mountain King, it’s you. That’s how I feel here,” he tapped his chest, “but I’d just be telling you what you want to hear. What I want to believe. One thing I’ve always done with you, is tell you like it is.”

“Except about my mother.”

“That was for—”

“I understand, Wyn. Listen, I am here because of you. I’ve made it this far because of your training. The man I am is because of the role you and my Grandfather played in my life. We will beat this evil wizard.”

Blodwyn sighed. “This isn’t as simple as saying good will triumph over bad because that is how life
should
work. We have been exposed to enough on this trek to see just the opposite.”

“You’re not making me feel better, Wyn.”

“I have seen your magic. Your skills have continued to improve,” Blodwyn said.

Mykal thought back to when he nearly burned the Cicade Forest to the ground.

“You have performed some amazing feats. The Mountain King has no idea who he is about to go up against. He thinks
he’s
courageous crossing the sea, coming here to battle powers against you? That just proves how idiotic the man truly is. I have a feeling he suspects his war will be swift, and effortless.

“What I do know is this, win or lose, I am honored to know you, and thankful we are friends. You and I will be fighting together. We’ll be side-by-side. It seems fitting. Aside from no war at all, I don’t think I would want it any other way. If that makes any sense at all.”

Mykal nodded. “It does. It makes perfect sense.”

As the ship sailed toward a slip in the Cove, Mykal felt something change in the air. It trembled around him. He closed his eyes, and searched for the source. The Mountain King was drawing power from the elements around him.

Large fireballs launched from the bow of the ship. They slammed into the buildings around the small marina. Red flames and thick smoke rose into the air. The fire grew, and roared with intensity. Clapboard and painted wood crackled and blackened. The smoke created a wall blocking most of the docks from clear view.

Mykal and Blodwyn charged forward, the Watch and knights were just behind them.

Arrows pierced the smoke. The army dropped to knees and raised shields above their heads. There was a steady
thwack thwack thwack
of broad-heads pushing into shields. Those on horseback did their best at protecting themselves as they raced forward. Still, many men and beasts crumbled to the ground. Screams erupted from all directions.

Mykal didn’t let any of it slow his pace.

More than one ship landed. Cordillera’s knights jump from the decks onto the docks as he and Blodwyn reached the edge of the Cove.

Mykal’s eyes closed. His head became light. He reached out for support that wasn’t there, and almost fell.

Blodwyn caught his arm at the last second. “Mykal?”

“He’s not on the ship,” Mykal said, and turned around.

He felt the king’s magic inside him, just before he heard the man laugh. Mykal opened his eyes.

The Mountain King stood behind them. A crimson smoke was dissipating around his body. He was inside Mykal’s head, chanting some incantation over and over. The sound of his voice made his muscles weak, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his feet under him. He dropped the sword. It clanked on the pier. He clapped his hands over his ears, but before he fell to his knees, he pushed back.

He felt a surge of energy inside him. The effect was dim, but enough to regain his balance. Mykal dug his boots into the ground and raised both hands.

“I remember you,” King Cordillera said. “The last time we met you were on the ground. Dead.”

Mykal wasn’t interested in banter.

An electrical charge started in his shoulders and pulsed forward through his arms. Blue bolts streamed out of his fingertips. The beams struck where Cordillera once stood. Smoke rose from the seared ground.

Cordillera was several feet away, behind the charred area. “We don’t have to do this, you know. All of this. It can be avoided.”

Steel clashed with steel. The smell of burning structures filled Mykal’s nose. The thick smoke blew in several directions all at once. He coughed, choking on smoke. He rubbed away tears with the sleeve on his tunic. Mykal blinked several times, hoping his blurred vision might clear. He placed one hand over the other. A heat grew between his palms.

“With your magic, and my magic, we can rule the Old Empire together. We can rejoin the segregated lands as one. We can—”

A large ball of blue fire and electricity appeared between Mykal’s hands, and as soon as he could, he threw it at the king.

The ball hissed and popped as it slammed into a wall with a crimson hue.

The wall shimmered. It reminded Mykal of the protective spell cast over his grandfather’s farm.

Mykal stumbled sideways, but refused to fall.

The king scoffed. “I am trying to talk to you, wizard to wizard. Your lack of respect is insulting. I believe I’ve given you too much credit.”

Cordillera waved his hands and the crimson wall evaporated. “We should talk somewhere that is quieter. It is far too noisy here to even hear myself think.”

Mykal chanced a look back. Blodwyn was in the thick of the fight. His iron and wood staff knocked swords from hands. He tripped men, taking them out behind the knees. He swung the bulbous end of the staff around, and it
thunked
into the sides of heads.

Just as a crimson smoke swallowed him, Mykal heard his mother screaming…

***

Mykal woke to the sound of his mother’s voice. It echoed inside his head. She sounded terrified.

“Mother?” he said.

Mother
, he thought.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the sea. It was at an odd angle. He wasn’t at the Cove, though. He was on the beach where he fished. He could see the top of the rock pier to his right.

He could twist his head to the right. To the left.

He couldn’t move.

The sea was eye level.

His arms were pinned at his sides, and the sand was up to his chin. Some had gotten into his mouth. He spit trying to get the particles off his lips.

“Mother!”

She didn’t answer.

He couldn’t hear her inside his head.

Black boots stepped in front of his face. He did his best to tilt his head back, and look up.

Sun rays were blocked by the shadow of a man.

“At least now, here, like this, I know I have your undivided attention,” King Cordillera said. He squatted down next to Mykal’s head. The sun was like a halo over and behind the king’s head.

“Let me out of here,” Mykal said.

He was trapped, packed in tight, buried up to his neck in the sand.

Breathing became an issue. There was plenty of fresh air. He gasped, his claustrophobia kicking in.

“Does this bother you? Small, compact places?” King Cordillera brought a gloved hand close to Mykal’s face.

Mykal saw what was on the king’s hand, and strained against sand, unable to put any distance between them.

The brown spider was different from the ones he’d encountered under the Cicade Forest, and smaller than the ones in the caves beneath the Rames.

Dark bristly hairs covered eight long legs. The mass of black eyes on the head of the spider stared at him, blinking at different times. Large fangs protruded from the corner of a mouth that was dripping with spider saliva.

“A shame that spiders are so misunderstood,” King Cordillera said. He twisted his hand around so the spider could continually walk without falling off his fingers. “He seems to be rather curious about you, doesn’t he? You look rather upset, boy. Would you like me to take him away? Maybe give you time to think about my earlier offer?”

“I can’t join you,” Mykal stammered. He breathed quick and heavy breaths. His face felt hot. He imagined his skin had become red, and was wet with sweat despite the cold earth, and frigid temperatures.