The Royal Wizard (21 page)

The knights tied their horses.

“We are here,” Sir Frederick said, his eyes feverish as he looked for something that clearly wasn’t there to find. “Where is it?”

Nia listened. The effort made her head pound, but she had to know what was around her.

There.

In the shadows of a deep cave it stood still. It waited to see what they would do, ready to strike, should they be so foolish as to approach. “This is madness,” she managed to say.

“This is what we came here for,” Sir Frederick countered, moving forward.

“No!” Nia caught his arm. Bracing herself, she spoke the words she knew would spell all of their dooms. Death waited for them where the knights expected to find treasures untold. Death by means no mortal could imagine. “I will go first.”

Sir Frederick hesitated, but half bowed in ascent and backed away from the edge to allow her passage.

Nia took a step into the clearing, carefully placing her foot to make as little noise as possible. She fell through, knee deep into the snow. The beast did not stir. Shaking, dizzy, she took another step and almost collapsed.

Come back, Nia,
Stardust pleaded, sensing her weakness.

She couldn’t reply.

Instead, she focused all her energy on wading through the snow. Nia felt the knights following her, and she knew they worried. She heard Lucca swear under his breath each time her knees buckled in the deep snow.

It became shallower the closer they got to the rock face and Nia would have sighed in relief if she didn’t know something far worse was waiting for them there.

At last, she reached the face of the cliff. It hummed with power, its own as well as something else’s. The knights lined up on either side of her, their weapons drawn. They treated her now as what she was, a deathly ill woman, shaking and hunched over, her hair frozen and her face bloodless. Nevertheless, they didn’t say a word. As the warriors they were, their eyes didn’t linger on her, but searched for enemies to slay.

Not much energy left in her. No more time to waste.

Reaching out with one shaking hand, Nia touched the jagged rock.

All at once, a terrible roar shattered the wall before them, the earth shuddered and shook. Boulders rained down on them, and they fell to their knees for cover as the beast in the cave rushed out of the darkness.

Nia couldn’t defend herself, much less the knights; couldn’t even shield herself from the horrendous sound. She felt, rather than saw, one of the knights being lifted off the ground and tossed carelessly back toward the tree line. Two more met the same fate, and then the beast reached for Nia. It lifted her up by the shoulders so high she couldn’t tell how far off the ground she was. She dared not look.

But then the beast stilled and became quiet, and Nia opened her eyes to behold Saeran’s beloved face just beneath hers.

She fainted. 

CHAPTER 21

A fortnight had come and gone. It’s been almost a month since Nia and the knights had ridden out, and still there was no sign of them. Saeran had sent a trio of soldiers north to where the road ended, marking the border of his kingdom. They’d returned with no news whatsoever. He was beginning to worry, and he wasn’t the only one.

Nia’s absence had been noted and was much remarked upon in all circles. Some were saying the wizard had abandoned him and took it as a bad omen for his reign. Without confirmation, rumors had begun to spread, one more outlandish than the next. The wizard had died. She’d run off to join the knights’ order. She was battling monsters in the north. She’d been abducted into the Otherlands, never to return. It was the last which bothered Saeran because of all of them, it was the most believable.

Something had changed. His people grew discontent, the elements spoke to him less and less. It had been days since he’d heard even the wind speak of Nia. It was as if she had disappeared from the face of the earth, and in her absence Saeran saw how important a wizard truly was to the wellbeing of Wilderheim. Without her to interpret the weather, the winds, the changing seasons, Saeran felt blind and dumb, at a loss as to what needed to be done.

But it was worse than that.

At some point, even his mind turned against him. Where not long ago he went to sleep each night eager to see his wizard in dreams, now he dreaded the time when he had to close his eyes. Nightmares tormented him, dark portents of disaster and death. He saw it everywhere he turned, even in himself. For days now he’d dreamed of everyone he knew dying in some horrible way, yet there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to any of it.

Wary without knowing why, Saeran had ordered Manfred away for his own safety. His father had protested, of course. Now that Mari was with child, he’d wanted to stay for both of them and the birth of his grandson or granddaughter. But the more insistent he’d been, the more nervous Saeran had felt until he’d put his foot down and ordered a contingent of soldiers to pack up his father’s belongings and escort him back to Lyria. The sense of dread only left him when his messenger returned with news that the company was well beyond the mountain pass, and his sudden relief assured him that he’d done the right thing. One life, at least, he could save.

But what to do about the rest of them, including his own?

Half crazed with worry, Saeran struggled for control, but it proved elusive. With a foul curse he made a circuit around the chamber before falling back into his path from window to door and back while his advisors watched him as if he had lost his mind.

Saeran’s step slowed, and his gaze snared on the floor, refusing to be moved as his latest nightmare came back to haunt him in his waking hours. His vision blurred until he could see it unfold in his mind’s eye and he shuddered, unable to call out, unable to escape the sights. He saw his queen lying dead in a pool of blood, his own hands covered with it. Shock held his body still, but his hands refused to stop shaking. When at last he looked up, he saw Nia, doubled over in tremendous pain. He felt with her, his own body contorting, muscles locking until he couldn’t draw a breath. Terror made ice of his blood, but he kept looking at her, fighting his fate and trying to reach her, touch her. Help her, though he himself was dying.

“Majesty?”

The tentative voice brought him back to the present, and Saeran found himself staring at his own shaking hands. Gods, this had to end. He had to get Nia back. If for no other reason, than to ensure that she was safe. If he could just see her, even from a distance…

“Majesty.”

A little stronger this time. Despite his torturous thoughts Saeran felt a smile pulling on the corner of his mouth. He glanced at the frail-looking girl with her cloud of unruly russet hair and made an effort to soften his gaze. “Yes, Braith?”

She blushed scarlet to be addressed directly. “Has our business been concluded?”

Her impatience charmed him. Braith would be a hellion as soon as she found the courage to speak her mind more often. Saeran almost looked forward to it. He would enjoy the presence of more confident women among his advisors. The only trick would be to find them. Braith sneaked a glance at the window. No doubt she was eager to get out and join her cousins in their mischief. Saeran decided to be merciful. “It has,” he answered her, dismissing them all with a wave of his hand.

He sighed as he watched the oldest shuffle their feet out the door and stroked his beard. Something important was about to happen. He needed to be prepared, and it was damned difficult to prepare for something without knowing what it was.

“If only I could talk to Nia,” he said aloud.

Call,
the walls replied.

“Do you think I have not tried?” Oh, how he’d tried.

Soulcall,
they said.

“What?”

Soulcall.

Saeran shook his head and scowled.

He wished he could speak to Mari; truly speak to her. But unlike Braith, his queen wasn’t so eager to demand her voice. She rarely held his gaze for longer than a moment, and though she has learned his language well, she refused to say more than a handful of words whenever she was required to speak. To get her to say that much was a task in and of itself.

“Pregnant,” he said, still baffled by the news. Four different midwives and a witch had confirmed Mari's news and the chambermaid told him his queen had asked for a witch to visit her every day since the wedding to see whether she’d conceived. He wasn’t sure what to think about that.

She was a mystery, his queen. Saeran had been mistaken to think her weak. On the contrary, there was strength and courage running deep inside her, and he was beginning to admire her for it. True, she didn’t speak much, but in her silence she heard and observed so much more than anyone else he knew, besides Nia. She could sit by his side when he held court, listen to the petitioners speak and see into the heart of their dilemma. Saeran could tell by the way she tilted her head whenever she’d heard enough to make up her mind, and her decision, when he managed to drag it out of her, was always wise and just. It was the getting her to voice it to anyone but him in anything above a whisper that was the problem.

“Easier to talk to walls. At least you answer.”

Call.

“Even if you are somewhat flat.”

Perhaps it would help if he told Mari about his nightmares. He would risk frightening her, but a show of trust might inspire the same in her. And if she still couldn’t bring herself to speak to him, he could at least be safe in the knowledge that she wouldn’t repeat what he said. “It is as good a plan as any.” And it would give him something to do besides sit around and wait for the gods to strike him their blow.

Rubbing a weary hand over his brow he set out in search of her.

He hadn’t gone five steps outside the chamber when someone called to him. Saeran turned to acknowledge the magician who had accompanied Mari’s caravan and stayed when the rest had departed. It baffled Saeran how a born northerner could end up so far from his homeland. Jasper was such a man. Though his skin was now darkened by the hot Southern sun, his hair still gleamed gold, and his eyes were sharp and blue.

Cold eyes, he had. No matter how much he smiled, he could never disguise that. Saeran was uneasy beneath his direct gaze. He could sense Jasper was not all together sane, but he’d thought better of mentioning it.

Now, the man bowed. “Forgive the intrusion, Majesty,” he said politely, but something dark lurked behind his too easy smile.

“Be quick about it, whatever it is,” Saeran said, impatient to find Mari.

“Of course, Majesty,” Jasper said, rummaging in his pockets with well practiced haste. “I have overheard the maids speak of a wizard.”

His tone put Saeran on guard. “And what have you heard?”

“Nothing of import, I am sure,” Jasper replied with an easy shrug. “But they mentioned, too, your Majesty’s interest in magic tricks, and it so happens that I am in possession of a rather clever one. I thought your Majesty would appreciate it.”

Saeran tapped his foot as the boy continued to search for his trinket, but curiosity kept him from dismissing Jasper. Truth be told, he missed talk of magic and spells. Saeran continued to practice what lessons Nia had imparted on him, though it was never the same without her.

At last, Jasper pulled a chain out of his pocket and Saeran watched as the dark, shining stone pendant settled on its loop, swinging enticingly back and forth. Back and forth. So beautiful and dark, Saeran felt as if he was falling into it. Back and forth. Back…and forth…

“Merely a first step,” Jasper was saying, but Saeran was too distracted to follow his words. Something cold and ravenous dwelled in the depths of that stone. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. It swam in circles, trapped by the pendant, enraged and distraught that it could not get out. Then Saeran felt its gaze snare on him. It stopped and stared, singing a tune to lure him closer, even as invisible bands slithered around him and pulled taut. “You see, I need to find the wizard. She hides better than most I have come across, but she cannot hide her love for you.”

Saeran swayed forward, as the dark chill of magic spread around him, and, of its own accord, his hand reached out  to the black stone, so shiny it seemed like ice.

“She will come back for you,” Jasper said with malicious determination, all pretense of innocence gone. All at once he sounded far older than he looked, and for an instant, fear gripped Saeran and he fought against the binds, a last ditch effort to free himself. It was too late. His call for help never made it past his lips. “Oh, aye, she will come. And when she does, I will be waiting.”

At those terrible words, Saeran’s vision went dark and then he was falling through emptiness with barbed spikes stabbing into him, turning his blood to ice…

* * *

Nia woke slowly, fighting her way through layers of fog to find that her body was warm and languid, cushioned by something much softer than her mattress roll.  It shocked her how difficult it was just to open her eyes and keep them that way. She could not move more, no matter how much she wanted to.

Before her, a fire burned merrily in a stone hearth built into an almost smooth wall. Bright banners covered the walls around it like tapestries to keep out the chill, and there were furs strewn about the floor to protect bare feet. She was lying on a nest of pillows, covered with several of those furs.

Had she dreamed it all?

No. Nia still felt echoes of the pain she’d endured to get here, and her essence was barely glowing—a reminder of how close she’d come to dying. She made an effort to rise, but even raising her head proved to be too much. Too much effort. Too much pain. A helpless sound escaped her before she could prevent it. Her mouth was parched and her eyes felt dry. 

Strong arms came around her to help her sit up. The man they belonged to was a shadow against the fire’s light, something she thought was very deliberate. He retrieved a goblet and held it to her lips, and that was when she noticed his hand.  It was covered with scales that shimmered in the firelight, his nails more like thick claws.