A Magic King (46 page)

Neither Daken nor his father said anything. They knew Borit would tell them his plan eventually. They didn't have to wait long.

"Did you know Tarveen can be herded? Assuming you have enough men and fast horses, you can actually direct them, guide them as you will, to a certain location or target."

Daken lifted his head, looking at the wastelands to the east. Already he could hear the strange scraping and clicking sounds of the Tarveen, coming closer when they should have been receding.

"That's right, Little Daken," smirked Borit. "They're coming back. For you."

"They'll get you too."

"Oh, I don't think so. You see, we have horses and weapons—while you are on foot, your people weak and sickly, with only one sword among the lot of you."

Understanding dawned along with a sick sense of doom. "You will sit back and watch, hemming us in while the Tarveen cut us to pieces. Then you'll take over our lands, rebuild, and eventually—"

"Eventually, I'll relieve the Elven Lord of the burden of rulership." Then with an arrogant smile, he tipped his hat. "Good-bye, King Daken." Then he wheeled around and took his place with his men, merging into the solid wall of weapons and skilled warriors who would keep the Tarveen hemmed in, stampeding over Daken's people.

Daken turned to his father, his thoughts spinning as he sought for a plan. "Any ideas?" he asked.

His father didn't even look at the approaching thunder of the Tarveen. Instead, his gaze caressed his son's face, long and loving on each hard angle. "I'm glad I got to see you one last time before I died, son. I'm proud of you. You've turned into quite a man."

Then he turned away to embrace Daken's mother before shifting to stand, proud and noble, to face the oncoming slaughter with her by his side.

Chapter 18

"No!" Daken gently pushed aside his mother as he faced off with his father. "There are things we can do. I will not just lay down and die!"

"Good." His father smiled, pride and love written in his every wrinkle. "Your mother and I have fought the Tarveen every moment of the last seven years. We won't give up either. And neither will they," he gestured to the people around them, most of whom picked up stones before turning to face the oncoming slaughter with grim determination. "We just don't see any other options right now."

Daken drew his sword, pleased at the way the sun glinted off the blade. Soon it would run dark with Tarveen blood. Or red with Borit's. Daken turned a slow circle, seeing Borit's men surrounding them, all on horseback, all with weapons.

But he focused on the men cutting them off from the water.

"Father, how are the Tarveen on water? What if we ran into the lake?"

His parents twisted, following the line of his gaze. "There are twenty men with swords and horses between us and the water, Daken. Do you think we can break through?" his father asked.

"I think we'll have to. Then at least some of us will survive."

His mother nodded, immediately going to spread the word among the people. There wasn't much time. Daken pushed through the crowd as well, moving to the back, his thoughts slipping inevitably to Jane. Was she all right? Had his brother been able to do anything for her? He wasn't even sure if he'd be glad if she still lived. Better for her to die before knowing how all her efforts ended. Still, he'd like a chance to tell her he loved her before he died.

But as he scanned the too-silent crowd for his beloved, his gaze landed not on Jane, but on Steve. He'd expected the boy to be with Jane or at least hiding from the man who once abused him. Instead, Steve stood erect, his small fists clenched by his side, his gaze one of pure hatred focused on Borit.

Daken quickly crossed to the boy's side, speaking low and calm into his ear. "He's not worth it, Steve. You are free now, so don't waste your energy on him. Save it for the Tarveen."

Steve didn't even look at him. He focused entirely on Borit with a malevolence frightening in one so young.

Daken grabbed the boy, shaking him out of his stupor. "Listen to me, Steve. I have a plan, but I need you." Nothing. Like a moth mesmerized by a flame, the youth was centered entirely on Borit. Daken tried one last time. "Steve! We've got to save Jane."

Finally he'd said something that penetrated the young mage's anger. Slowly, the boy turned his pale blue eyes on him, and his face firmed in resolution.

"Good." Daken nodded in approval. "Come on. You get to pick. Borit's men or the Tarveen."

Steve shook him off, pushing away from Daken to walk alone to King Borit. Daken moved to follow the mage, but then he held back. He didn't have time to waste on a recalcitrant boy. He'd seen other children become obsessed with an abuser, and there wasn't time to shake Steve out of it. His only hope was that self-preservation would finally break through the boy's hatred.

With firm resolve, Daken turned away from the boy. It was suddenly vitally important to find Jane. He wanted to see her one last time before he died. Then he would choose the most vulnerable among Borit's men.

As Daken pushed his way to Jane, scanning for weaknesses in Borit's solid line of armed men, and as he silently made his peace with the Father and prepared for death, he still couldn't help but keep an eye on Steve. He wished the young mage would just fireball the bastard and get it over with instead of standing rigid with hatred while Borit harangued him.

"Look who's coming to visit, boys!" cackled Borit, pointing his sword down at Steve. "It's Ginsen's charity—the mute, serving boy who would be a great mage. What do you want?"

Steve naturally didn't say a word, but his body seemed to compress, like a spring coiling just a little tighter.

"Maybe you want a little protection? I'm always happy to oblige." Borit made lewd movements with his hand and hips. His men chortled around him. "What do you say, boy? Care for some more of my protection?" He scooted back a bit in his saddle. "I may not have the same equipment, thanks to that bitch Oracle, but," he waved his dagger hilt in the air, "there are other ways to enjoy watching your friends die."

Daken took a step forward, anger ripping away his resolve to let Steve work this through himself, but then his attention shifted as the first of the Tarveen scuttled into view. Around him, his people stirred. The adults seemed to pull tighter around the children in the center. And Daken, cursing under his breath that he hadn't found Jane before hand, pushed his way to the forefront and the Tarveen.

"Steve," he bellowed. "Take the back!"

He'd already seen his father's men gather to the rear of their group, ready to surge over the horses and men separating them from the water. It would be a bloody battle, but no worse than up front against the Tarveen. With Steve's help they would be able to break through Borit's men. Especially once the Tarveen began a distraction.

Daken's job was to make sure that distraction wasn't a lethal one. His was indeed the only sword, but he would use it to the best of his ability before he fell. He prayed he could dispatch a few hundred Tarveen to their deaths before he joined them. And maybe, if he was lucky, there wouldn't be more than a few hundred Tarveen.

He was wrong. There were at least a thousand Tarveen, like a black tide, undulating over the terrain. Behind them were Borit's men on fast horses, jeering and screaming to drive the monsters on toward Daken and his people.

Daken swallowed, finally accepting he would die in his worst nightmare, buried under a seething tide of Tarveen. But just in case, he made one last appeal to Borit. "By the Father, Borit, look at them. You'll be overrun too."

"I don't think so, Daken," he said casually, as he and his men drew back just a bit. We've got armor and weapons. And we're not first in their path." He grinned. "You are."

Daken lost his temper. The man was not only vicious, he was stupid too. "These are Tarveen, you idiot. You've driven the whole colony straight at us!"

"Your concern is touching," he sneered. "My only regret is that I didn't get a chance to become better acquainted with the little bitch. Ah well, I suppose I shall just have to do with more familiar entertainments." He glanced impatiently at Steve, holding out his hand to the boy. "Come on, boy. I grow weary of waiting."

Steve didn't move, though a slow smile spread over his face. Daken paused, turning to the young mage, suddenly afraid the boy considered Borit's offer.

"Steve!" he screamed. "I need the magelight. Or can you manage a wall of fire?" Daken's only hope was if the mage could put up some obstruction, some way to stop the Tarveen.

But the boy wasn't listening. He was still focused on Borit.

"Steve!" Daken screamed again. "For the love of the Father, Steve, wake up!" A horrible thought began in the pit of Daken's stomach. What if the boy chose survival on Borit's terms rather than death by the Tarveen? It was a logical-choice, but the sharp bite of betrayal killed any compassion Daken might have had.

He tossed his sword to Tev, who came up to join him against the Tarveen. Then Daken pushed his way to Steve, but he was too late.

To his horror, the boy took a step toward Borit.

"That's right, Steviens," Borit cackled. "I always knew you were a smart one." Then he glanced nervously at the approaching hoard. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."

Then Steve spoke for the first time. His voice was high like the adolescent he was, but it held a maturity that spoke of a man's hatred, a man's revenge. "Die, you gelded ass."

Then Daken saw him twist his wrist in an obscene gesture, and the world faded out.

It took only a moment to reform around him, but in that time, Daken was nearly prostrate with panic. He didn't know what happened or how to defend himself.

When Daken could focus again, he saw not the wasted terrain of Troit, but the green fields surrounding Chigan. Spinning around, he saw all his people with him. Steve was to his right, dropping to the ground as exhaustion claimed him.

Then understanding grew like a beautiful dawn within him. Steve had transported them all. His people, himself, all of them to Chigan!

He started screaming in joy, the enormity of their rescue finally sinking in. His people, too, began to understand. One after the other, like raindrops in the form of laughter, sounds began to break from their lips. First a chuckle, then a titter, then gleeful shouts in a wild clamor burst around him.

Still grinning, he crossed to Steve who lay crumpled on the ground like a puppet blown over by the wind. Daken easily poured all his thankfulness, all his happiness into the young body. He healed Steve's exhaustion with a simple rush of the Power. And when the boy struggled to a stand, Daken raised him up, lifting him high in the air, and screamed above the din.

"Thanks to the Father! We have a true, great mage!"

Cheers burst around him, and Steve's weight was soon lifted from his arms as others strained to touch their savior, thank him, and carry him aloft as they celebrated their freedom.

Daken dropped back, letting the tide of people surge forward without him. Jubilation still burned through him like a torch as his thoughts turned to Jane. He had to find Jane.

It was only after he caught sight of his brother's grim face that fear supplanted his happiness.

* * *

Cold.

Ice cold.

She was a block of ice frozen by the death ray gun of a maniacal policeman who caught her out after curfew.

No, wait. That was the other time. Jane frowned as she tried to sort through her sluggish thoughts, but the movement brought waves of pain shooting through her consciousness.

What had happened?

Warmth
. Blessed warmth pricked at her body like tiny needles. And it felt so painfully familiar. She felt a hand glide over her face. It was large and calloused, but gentle where it caressed her skin.

"Yyi cquiness mnansirul?"
The voice was deep and lilting. And she remembered it like an echo from a beautiful dream. "How do you feel?" it repeated.

"Cold." Then she twisted the word, dredging the correct response out of the dark shadows of her dream. "Keesn." That was the Common word for "cold".

She opened her eyes.