Severed Empire: Wizard's War (38 page)

“Until our paths cross, then,” Quill said, and took off on his horse, headed north toward his home in the treetops. The hooves kicked up wet dirt and snow in a messy wake behind him.

“Stay safe,” Coil said.

“You, as well, brother,” Mykal said. They locked hands onto each other’s forearms, and shook. A silent show of respect passed between them, it was in their locked stare, eyes unblinking, heads bowed, and then Coil turned his horse and chased after Quill.

Mykal smiled, and nodded at his mother.

Can you hear me
, he thought.
Mother, can you hear me?

Her eyes widened, and she wrinkled her brow. “Yes. I can.”

Mykal said, “Mother, don’t speak your answers.”

Let’s try again. Can you hear me,
he thought.

She never looked away, but Mykal didn’t hear anything. There was no answer.

Just relax,
he thought.
And let your magic carry your voice to me. Let it follow my magic back
.

How’s this?

I heard that,
Mykal thought.

You heard me?
It was his mother’s voice. It rang softly inside his head.

“I heard you,” Mykal said. “And that is how we will communicate with each group. If you get into trouble, or need us to respond fast, you send me a message with your mind, using your thoughts. Understood?”

“And you’ll do the same?” Anna said.

“And I’ll do the same,” Mykal said, agreeing, but still felt a bit apprehensive about the whole situation. He breathed evenly, though, not wanting his anxiousness worrying the others. The expectations were high, growing. He’d accepted the role unofficially, and would not shirk the responsibility.

“Son, I have not been a father to you. You know this. I don’t need to say it. It is my fault, and I will have to live with the guilt of missing you grow up. I am not making excuses. I see the man you are now, and I am filled with terrible emotions.”

“Father—”

“Please. Let me finish. You are a strong and inspiring person. I am proud of you. More than you may ever understand. I can never make up to you all the time I lost. I am not worthy to be your father. I just hope in your heart you will allow me to become your friend.”

Mykal saw the tears brim in his Father’s eyes.

“I don’t want you to answer me now. I want you to think about it. Whatever your answer, I will respect. Please, ride safe, son,” Eadric said. He let a
ye-haw
, and the horse took off running.

Mykal watched his parents ride away. He couldn’t ditch the sinking feeling in his gut. His hand over his stomach did nothing to squelch the sensation.

“They’ll be all right,” Blodwyn said.

“You can’t know that,” Mykal said. With all of his new powers, predicting the future was not one of them.

Chapter 36

The horses galloped. Mykal and Blodwyn rode side by side. They held the reins and pushed the horses hard. The hooves boomed striking the cold ground. They had a distance to cover and very little time. Mykal chose saving his strength until the use of magic was absolutely necessary. If it came down to a battle between the king and him, he wanted his energy restored, and in as much abundance as possible.

Mykal didn’t fear the Mountain King, but was wary of the man’s accumulative powers. It sounded like he’d amassed magic from wizards-building on his abilities, and ultimately adding to them.

That sounded like a dangerous formula. The only positive Mykal latched onto was that they were both new to their powers. Hopefully that meant something, and leveled out their playing field some.

No. He wasn’t afraid. He was angry.

He ground his teeth together, his jaw set.

Thoughts of revenge; of vengeance; of retribution coursed through his mind. The time for judgment was almost at hand. The Mountain King deserved nothing shy of death. He didn’t care to see the man suffer. He wasn’t concerned with torturing the king, the way the king had tortured Galatia. Swift, and deadly punishment was how he planned on severing the situation.

Swift and deadly.

It was a horrible feeling, being filled with anger. He wanted it out of his body. He saw no way of coming to terms with the emotion until the threat was forever eradicated from the world.

He wanted life in Grey Ashland back to normal.

If normal was still a possibility.

He wanted nothing more than living out his life on the farm with his Grandfather, with his Mother, and Father.

Life would be different now, but that could still be normal.

“There!” Blodwyn pointed with his staff.

Mykal had been too lost in thought to notice. Ahead he saw King Nabal’s flag flying high, and just beyond that the Isthmian Sea.

They were still too far to see much detail, but it looked as if King Nabal had a legion of men on foot, and on horseback.

As they got closer, Mykal saw large square tents pitched, and assumed they were command posts for strategy meetings.

Planning their attacks, Mykal hoped they understood the foe they’d face.

More than likely, King Nabal was not readying his men for a war against a powerful and sinister wizard.

“We need to step it up,” Mykal said. He kicked his heel into the side of his horse. “Giddy up!
Ye-aww!
”

Blodwyn forced his horse to the limits.

They sped toward Nabal’s knights.

On the sea, cannonballs boomed.

Flames rose from boat decks and lit up masts like giant candles. The vessels were too far away to make out which ships were burning. The cannons firing boomed like thunder.

The clouds above the sea were still black as night; and swirled around the islands in a most menacing fashion. The sky over the rest of the Old Empire was slate gray, and yet, just as damning.

Knights noticed their approach.

Four, on horseback, rode toward them.

Mykal hoped the encounter went better than when he’d been inside the castle, when he’d been forced to kill many of Nabal’s Watch.

There would be mistrust and hard feelings.

Not on his part, though. King Nabal would need to get over it. Fighting together, one united force; could make the difference between winning this war and losing it.

The idea of lives lost wore heavy on Mykal’s mind.

There would be countless, needless deaths. He didn’t understand the cravings for power, and control. How come some people strived for things as unimportant as authority?

If he could save everyone… if giving away his magic brought peace to all of the lands, he would surrender it now, and willingly!

Both Mykal and Blodwyn reined in their horses. They didn’t want their approach to appear hostile. The horses slowed from a gallop to a trot. Before long, the four knights reached them. Much to Mykal’s thankfulness, none were of Nabal’s Watch. Perhaps, that would keep the animosity at bay for the moment.

The knights kept swords on their hips, and lifted faceplates on their helms.

“Identify yourselves!” one of the knights said.

“We need to speak with the king,” Blodwyn said.

There was no response. The knight who had asked for identification said, “Run along. Return home. Prepare to defend your land.”

“King Cordillera is planning an attack, but not just from the sea,” Mykal said.

“We do not have time for this,” the knight said.

“We are here to fight with you,” Blodwyn said.

“Very noble. Not necessary. There has been no call for recruits at this point,” the knight said.

“His men are crossing the Zenith Mountains, as well,” Mykal said.

“Where are you getting your information?” the knight said.

“Think about it,” Mykal said. “The Mountain King wouldn’t attack just one front. He is planning to come at Grey Ashland from all sides at once.”

The knight remained quiet for a moment. He was a man of war. He trained all of his life for battle, probably from the time he was a squire. He understood the art of attack. Mykal knew his words had to ring true.

“How many are crossing? Where are they?”

Mykal wanted to be as truthful as possible. If he told the knight that the king’s men were just starting their climb, he’d never be taken seriously. “A half a legion, maybe more.”

The knight closed his mouth, and his brow creased. “You say you want to fight beside us?”

“It would be our honor,” Blodwyn said.

“You have a stick. Is that all, old man?” the knight said.

Mykal knew Blodwyn could disarm and beat the four at the same time, but stayed out of the conversation. “We’re wasting time,” he said.

The knight sucked in a deep breath. Exhaled. “Follow us!”

***

The tent was red and white, with lowered back, and side covers. The flaps at the front entrance were tied open. Inside, small, oil-filled lanterns revealed several captains standing with the king looking over a small table. The king wore garments specifically for battle. His breastplate was polished steel, his arms bare. The royal cape was affixed at the shoulders to the plate, and a sword with a jeweled hilt was on his belt.

Mykal doubted the man would ever set foot outside of the tent. If the blade of his sword had ever drawn blood, he would have been more than surprised.

“Your Highness?” the knight said.

King Nabal looked up. In front of him, sat partially-unrolled maps. The corners were held down with goblets. From where Mykal stood he could smell the wine and ale. Everyone stared at the map as if it demanded their attention. Mykal thought all one needed was to step outside the tent to see the approaching danger. He knew nothing of war, and would allow the benefit of the doubt to prevail that this must be what important men did during battles.

Distracted, the king said, “What? Who are these people?”

“Your Highness.” Mykal stepped forward.

The knight dropped a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back a few steps.

Mykal didn’t resist. He held up both hands, showing he meant no harm.

“Wait. Wait a minute,” the king said. “I know you. I know these men!”

Mykal hoped it wouldn’t come to this. “Your Highness—”

“Call the Watch!”

“King Nabal!” Mykal raised his voice to get the man’s attention. “We tried warning you. We came to you with information about this attack. You chose not to heed the warning. And yet, here we are again. I knew you would recognize us. I understood there was the danger of you having us arrested. But here we are! We want to help!”

King Nabal was silent.

Mykal didn’t want his moment passing, so hurried on with his explanation. “We can defeat the Mountain King if we work together. His magic is far more powerful than mine.”

Those in the tent gasped. Some took steps away from Mykal.

“I am a loyal subject of Grey Ashland, Your Highness. Loyal. I was born with this magic. I didn’t ask for it. It is not something I want. But is a part of me. It is who I am. How can that make me guilty of anything? Being a wizard is not something I chose. What then is my crime? Magic was outlawed, but how does that make me guilty? Your men can clash steel against steel, and that fight will be won by the better-trained soldiers. Who do you have on your side that can stand toe-to-toe against an evil sorcerer? You have no one. You have me.”

Still, no one spoke.

Mykal’s throat was dry. Swallowing was nearly impossible. He needed water most desperately. “The Mountain King is attacking with ships, and is expected to try and dock at the cove. He may also have ships on the way to Ridgeland Port.”

“We suspected as much. I have men on the way there.” The king spoke through clenched teeth. He must have found the truth in Mykal’s words, and although reluctant, was ready to work together for the good of the land.

“We do as well,” Mykal said.

“How many?” someone asked.

“Two,” Mykal said.

Someone scoffed.

“One is a wizard,” Mykal said, and waited.

“Another wizard?” King Nabal said. “He’s been living in my kingdom?”

“It is a she. And no. She has not been living here. I brought her to Grey Ashland to help us. She is very powerful. She may be our best chance at defeating the Mountain King,” Mykal said.

“I thought you just told me that you were our best chance for victory?” King Nabal said.

“No one can beat the Mountain King alone,” Mykal said.

Beside him, Blodwyn nodded in agreement. He kept silent, letting Mykal handle the conversation, but seemed to be smiling just a little, as if proud by the way the encounter was playing out.

“And the Zenith Mountains,” the knight behind Mykal said. “Tell the king about that.”

“What about the mountains?” Nabal said.

“King Cordillera has maybe half a legion of knights crossing the mountains. They may be planning an attack from the north,” Mykal said.

“How do you know this?”

“I have friends at Ironwall Pass, and the Cicade Forest,” Mykal said. It was a completely true statement, but did not answer the king’s question. However, the king nodded thoughtfully, as if satisfied.

“More wizards?” King Nabal said.

Mykal shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Your Highness. But they are warriors, and they are prepared to fight.”

“For me?”

“For the safety and peace of their land,” Mykal said.

The king grunted. “Danyels,” he said. “I want men headed that way. They can await the arrival of Hermon’s knights.”

“But the haunted forest, sire?” Danyels said.

The king shot him a look.

“If I may?” Mykal said. “When you get to the forest, if you encounter anyone, you tell them you are seeking safe passage through the woods to face off Hermon’s knights. I can guarantee you will not be tormented by spirits for that reason.”

“My men are not worried about spirits,” Nabal said, clearly choosing to ignore the facts in front of him.

“Sire,” Danyels said, nodding and pushing his way out of the tent.

“I want to make one thing clear, wizard,” the king said.

“Mykal,” he said.

The king clucked his tongue. “I am accepting your offer to help. When this is over, that doesn’t make everything go as water under the bridge. Crimes were committed, in my home, in my palace, no less. In my castle!” Saliva collected at the corners oh his mouth. He spat as he became increasingly enraged. His face reddened. Thick veins like cords bulged from the sides of his neck. He exhaled a long, loud sigh before continuing. “That, I’m afraid, is something that just cannot be overlooked. We can work together as allies right now, but you can’t change what has already happened. The violent past cannot be erased so easily. I comforted crying wives, and shook the hands of children who lost their fathers to your sorcery.”